Joker's Wild
by Poorhuni
Summary: Two fans of the Dark Knight get sucked into Gotham, but it doesn't turn out quite the way they'd want - The joker here is real, sadistic and not one for fluff & romance. Will both girls make it through their meeting? Rated for violence in later chapters.
1. In the Beginning

Stepping out of work I pulled the wretched cap they made us wear off my head. My scalp burned, itching from a day spent in the greasy rat-trap that was the "Cluckin'-Bell Chicken House!". My feet burned too, and neither my back nor my legs felt too brilliant either. Pulling my hair from its pony tail I fluffed it out, rubbing my scalp. Honest to God - If one more customer had pointed out our risqué name today - I may have actually killed them with a fresh-from-the-vat basket.

So our owner had something that bordered on a sense of humour.

Thankfully my bus was there when I got to the stop. Soon I could be home. Soon I could bathe.

But soon I was walking through the door to my mother saying "Oh, Amber. I think she's just walking through the door… Hold on." Amber is my best friend. Technically. We've been best friends since we were little kids - I, Honest to God, don't remember a time in my life without her.

But as time has progressed she's become more… Annoying. Where as I've grown up and gotten a job (Okay, it's the Cluckin'-Bell Chicken House - but it's a job) Amber hasn't. She still lives in a world where mummy and daddy buy her everything and to be honest - A little bit of me really hates that. I think it's more jealousy but she does seem to have a much better life.

I mean - I'm not whining. I'll admit it, my life is so super hard - what with being an only child, with parents in a mostly stable relationship with a lack of an abusive past - but you know woe is me. I mean I wasn't spoiled, at least not like Amber. She always seems to get her own way, and I know I can whine for England, but seriously. I'd only get the silver in a competition with her. Something is always wrong.

It wouldn't be too bad if her life sucked but she's always had what she wanted - new clothes, dancing lessons, singing lessons - She even all ready has a car and she doesn't even have a license.

But enough of that.

"Hello…" I said taking the phone off my mother.

"Hey-hey!" Even her voice was annoying, but I didn't really want to be mean to her. I'd seen her when she hated people. She can get rather cruel. "What colour would you say my eyes are?"

"Uhm… Brown?" I offered trying to hold the phone with my shoulder and pull my shoes off.

"Well, _obviously. _But like - what shade?"

"A muddy shade?" I grunted pulling off my second shoe.

"Mud? Come on, you can describe better than that! I've read some of your English work!"

"Yeah - Okay. Well - you remember that time we went down the woods, with the school and we both fell into that sort of… Stagnant pool of mud? The really stinking stuff that wrecked our clothes?"

"Yeah…"

"Like that. All dark and gloopy."

"My eyes make you think of stink mud?"

"Only you know… The colour. Listen, it's not an insult. Honest to God. Anyway, why?"

"You say that so often. I'm writing a story - I'll be putting it up later - would you read it for me?"

"Uhm… Yeah. Sure. Anyway I'm going to go - I need to clean myself." I rang off and placed the phone back in its cradle. I was not looking forward to reading Ambers' story. I'd read some of her work before and it was hard to make "This is poop, Amber. Utter poop," into "No - Amber. This is not poop! This is pure and unfettered awesome!"

But I could try. Later. My bath was calling…

Having twisted the towel around my head I sat down at the computer which hummed as it loaded up. An email waited for me linking me to Ambers story. I began to read it soon wishing I hadn't.

_Amber was a young, beautiful rich girl who lived with her adoptive parents. Her real parents died when she was young and left her a huge fortune which was the only reason that her adoptive parents had taken her in - her money. They abused her terribly hoping she'd die so they could have her money._

_She was incredibly pretty with long silky brown hair and chocolate-caramel coloured eyes that jealous people said looked like mud. But she knew the truth. _

So I was jealous was I? Well. Maybe but not of her writing talent. I skimmed on, the description of her perfect body and attire going on for a while…

_Tears rolled down the apples of her pink cheeks, which were round and soft, but not fat or chubby. "Oh, someone take me away from this place! Someone love me for who I am!" She declared throwing a penny into the wishing well she stood at._

"_Hee. Ho. Ha. Ha. He… Ah-ha. Ha." _

_Amber span around coming face to face with - The JOKER!!_

"_Why so serious?!" He asked of her, his voice husky and deep._

Since we'd seen the dark night, Amber had discovered Heath Ledger, as the joker and decided he was super hot! In one of her most comforting and self-absorbed moments she'd told me about how she'd had a dream where we fought to the death for him. She had of course kicked my ass without getting as much as a scratch. I think she actually posted that as a story.

"_Hey babe!" _I typed and then paused. _"Haven't finished reading yet - but it looks like it's got lots of Joker potential! I've got to go to bed now but I'll give you a proper review when I've read it all, eh?" _Submitting it I sighed.

Most of her stories had these comments from me. Sometimes she'd ask me about finishing the reading and I'd leave vague comments about how it was great - and how I couldn't wait for more. Usually I wanted to add - I really don't think I can wait long enough, because I'll never want to read more! But they seemed to placate her. Not that I'd be much better myself at writing stories - at least she knew what spell check was.

I played about on the computer for a while longer before going to bed little knowing what I'd get into when I woke.

My head felt like it was lined with fur and lead, it lolled forwards as my eyes opened to semi-darkness. I was aware of feeling very heavy. Dizzy. Blurry. As my eyes began to pick out shapes, I couldn't keep them focused on anything. My backside and legs felt cold, and it was then that I realized I was tied to someone keeping my back warm.

I'd never been drugged, but that was certainly what this felt like and even in this state, I was certain this was not my bed.

My throat dry I managed a strangled cry of "Hello?" that didn't really sound much like any word I'd known any human to use.

I managed to stay conscious - which was a struggle, my brain wanted to sleep.

A while later I barely managed to avoid getting concussed as my partner jerked away head snapping back barely missing mine.

"Hello?" Her cry was cleared than mine.

"Amber?" I gasped, recognising that annoying slightly nasal voice.

"Vic?" She asked, sounding unsure.

"Yeah - What's going on?"

"I… I don't know… But I don't like it!" She stated starting to struggle. Maybe she was as weak as I felt because she barely seemed to affect me. The lights suddenly fired up with life, blinding me for a short while. Hearing footsteps, I looked to the side struggling to raise my head. That was when I noticed I'd been stabbed. With a needle or something I supposed - but the small wound with a large bruise in the crook of my arm was a hugely obvious hint.

I wondered absently why it didn't hurt.

"Oh my God…"

I managed to raise my eyes if not my head. Scuffed shoes, purple trousers that looked like they'd seen better days - a matching jacket and then what I was truly worried about. A painted scarred face.

"Oh my God." Amber repeated as we obviously both stared up at her current obsession - The Joker.

--

**And there we go. First chapter, hope you like it. Review it if you read it, please, even to tell me it's poop? Utter poop? Sorry there isn't much Joker / Action that will come though - be patient. **


	2. The Killing Game

"Oh my God." Amber repeated for a third time. She really did have an annoying voice.

This had to be a dream. That was why my arm didn't hurt. It was all a dream. Not mine of course; I didn't have dreams like this. But… If it wasn't my dream, why did I have conscious thought..? It didn't make sense, Amber dreaming this and thinking as me. But, it had to be the case. This was a dream. This wasn't real. Gotham wasn't real. The Joker wasn't real.

It just couldn't be real.

But there the Joker stood.

Much taller than I had pictured, but then I was seated on the floor, lower half numbed to anything but the cold and upper half deadened by whatever had been injected into my arm.

He looked just like he had in the cinema. But taller. Darker. Dirtier. Scarier. Dirt seemed to be ingrained into him, he exuded a terrible power. If he was going for striking terror into his victims hearts - he had it down pat.

A light was just behind his head giving his lank, greasy hair an odd halo effect. It was disconcerting.

He bent at the knees, squatting down, staring first at me, then at Amber. His black, kohl-rimmed eyes were dark. Murky like stagnant pool stink-mud. They held a glint to them - the glint that appears in the eyes of a child on Christmas morning as he rips open presents.

It sent a shiver down my spine and I tried to loll my head away and failed.

I saw him flick open his switch blade, felt Amber jerk to look at him, and heard her scream invade my ears.

I wanted to scream too. I wanted to let the howl starting in my chest burst free and ring in the air like hers' but something blocked my throat. Fear maybe. Terror was probably better, but while her scream rang out I could do nothing but watch mutely as he cut us free from each other.

Amber stopped screaming.

His cuts were rough, dangerous, close to my skin. Perhaps he cut me. I didn't know. I couldn't feel anything.

He stood, cracking and popping as he did. I winced, the sound never nice to my ears.

"_Welllll_. Hell-_o_ ladies." He said starting to circle us, giggling as if he'd said something hilarious. It was high. Mirthful. My stomach turned. "We, ah, we are going to conduc-_t _a little ex-pe-ri-men-_t_. One to, ha, test you're friendshi-_p, _and you are friends aren't you?" His face loomed close to mine.

His teeth were yellow and his breath smelled rancid, acrid. I couldn't wrinkle my nose. I couldn't force an answer out. I nodded in reply and this seemed to be enough for him. He handed me his knife, having folded it up first. I looked at it dully as he wandered on.

"You see, I have a need for some female hmm, _company_. Bu-_t _only one female. So-" There was a cry from Amber. I'm not sure what she'd tried to do. Perhaps this wasn't her dream if _her_ Joker was hurting her. "_SO_-" He repeated, voice laced with far more malice and danger than before. "Last one breathing. Gets. The. Spo-_t._"

He moved away and dumbly I watched him. There was shuffling behind me, but I wasn't worried - Amber wouldn't fight me to the death. We weren't brainless thugs were we? I felt her warmth move away from me and almost fell backwards.

Twisting around, my brain registered that she was pulling herself to her feet, a knife glinting in one of her hands. She looked sad, almost, as she turned to me.

"I'm sorry, Vick…" She said quietly.

"What… What're you on about?" I asked thickly.

Her grip tightened on her weapon. My eyes widened as my brain tried to force my body to react. I shuffled away quickly and she missed me, letting out a grunt of effort. I could feel the Jokers' watching us both as I hauled myself to my feet. I almost hit the ground again as blackness launched in front of my eyes.

I stumbled backwards and hit a wall. White dots exploded into the black that was my vision, slowly they began to form the room again and Amber, stumbling towards me, knife raised. I couldn't believe it, she was actually going to kill me!

Although apparently in her dream she didn't kill me - she came close and then broke down saying how she couldn't do it and then the Joker bundled her up and forgave her and - She narrowly missed me this time. In fact, she didn't even miss.

My arm was bleeding, a long gash running down it.

I had to pay attention - she was obviously not in a much better state than me - but she seemed ready to kill.

"Amber, come on…" I croaked in a voice alien to my ears.

With a roar of fury - or perhaps desperation Amber went for me again. My reflexes didn't save me.

Her blade sliced through my shoulder, obviously missing the bone, like a hot knife through butter.

She pulled it out, warm blood spreading quickly over the area. I wanted to scream, I wanted to make noise. Anything to drown out the ringing in my ears. There wasn't pain. Not like I expected. There was a dull ache but it had no edge, no screaming ripping tearing feeling of agony.

My hand released my knife, and I stumbled back, Amber raising her knife again. I lost my footing.

My head didn't hit the floor but the air was knocked from me. I felt a weight on my chest as Amber crawled on me. "I'm sorry…" She whispered. I blinked up at her.

"Amber, no… No you don't have to do this…" I begged watching her raise her knife and take aim.

"I'll try to make it as quick and painless as possible…" There were tears running down her cheeks.

My arms flailed, grasping at air. I wasn't sure why, I couldn't kill Amber could I?

My fingers closed around nothing. Amber let out another scream and I threw my arms up with surprising speed. Maybe I could block her.

Her weight landed on my arms, pushing them down. She stared over my shoulder. Dots blasted away my vision again, dizziness and an almost delirious feeling of nothing joined in my brain. Was this what death felt like? Like nothing?

My eyes slid closed.

There wasn't pain. That was good.

I wasn't dead yet, I could tell. I could still feel Ambers' weight on top of me crushing my arms down towards me. I couldn't hold her up in this numb state. She melted down on top of me. I could feel blood, warm and sticky all over me, spreading rapidly.

'_I'm going to die…' _I thought as the blackness over took everything.

_--_

**Hey guys! Whatcha think, eh? A sort of cliff-hanger I hope. ut of course, there is moar! I'd like to thank _EVERYONE _who reviewed. Seriously guys, this is gonna make me update faster. I know it's a bit crap to say that. But it's totally true.  
Ready.Aim.Fire333 - Yes, yes she is. She is based on several people that I know, since I don't really think I know anyone that annoying all rolled into one. I probably am going to tell you, in fact I plan to, but you'll just have to read all my story to find out! Mwhahaha!  
Dark Fae Angel - Ask and thou shalt recieve my child. See. I posted moar fer you. Because I love how you used my utter poop part.  
NicolinaN - Thank you and I hope I havent dissapointed.  
Silential - Well, there's not much I need to say in reply since I all ready have before. ILY.**

**I would also like to thank my Beta readers Joker88 and Silential, and anyone else who said yes and is yet to add me to their DocX. But seriously, workship Joker88 & Silential - they're awesome and they write brilliant joker stories too! Go lookit.**

**Next update will be after the weekend!**


	3. In the afterlife

"Victoria… Victoria, please wake up. Please…"

My mother sounded strained and desperate. Then again, my mum was weird. My eyes opened, all ready used to the light sailing in through the open curtains of my room.

"Vicky…"

"All right, Mum!" I called back, "I'm awake!" Strange woman. I sighed staring at the ceiling - it had all been a dream. A scary, trippy dream. Maybe I'd tell Amber about it some time. Just to see her face. That made me smile and I sat up swinging my feet out of bed without a second thought.

Until of course they landed on something surprisingly warm. I caught his face just as his eyes snapped open.

No. I crawled back in my bed as the Joker sat up, in my own room.

I was still asleep, I was still asleep.

Looking affronted at being woken so suddenly he looked to me. A scream ripped from my throat-

And I kept on screaming - sitting bolt upright. Well, that was a lie. I attempted to sit upright, but failed. Something at my wrists tugged me back onto whatever I was lying on. The pain soaring from my wrists to my shoulder blades deadened my scream.

I began to struggle finding myself tied to a… Well, it was hardly a bed. It was too small for a start. Too low. Too incredibly uncomfortable. Perhaps a cot would be the best description.

I screamed again, this time for help.

As I struggled on the bed, sending more pain through my arms and upper back I noticed I was in a dank, cold room. Light streamed in onto my cot and the immediate area from an old window that had been boarded up and some of the boards later broken. However the rest of the room was in darkness.

No one came and eventually I resigned myself to the fact I was stuck. If only for now.

The agony in my arms settled to a low hum, except for one of my shoulders. I remembered.

Amber had stabbed me there. Cut my arm… Killed me.

Oh God, was I in hell? I didn't really believe such things, I hadn't had a religious upbringing and couldn't believe - I was a person who required proof, yet I didn't completely rule it all out. But - Hell? I had been a good person mostly, and okay so I'd never confessed my sins, but this was a bit extreme wasn't it?

I fell still on the bed. I was dead. Amber had killed me. Well, I wished her luck with a man who'd make her fight her friend to the death.

I was dead. I'd never see my parents again. I'd never joke with my friends at work about giving that jerk at table three the special sauce, we never had of course, but it always made us laugh to think about doing it. I'd never get married. I'd never have kids. I'd never get into university.

When the tears came I couldn't stop them. But I was alone, I was sure of that, so it didn't matter.

When the door finally opened my tears had long dried up and I had begun to resign myself to this. Maybe I could become a ghost and haunt Amber and make sure she couldn't experience those things either.

Whoever it was that was coming slid over in one of those neat wheelie chairs. I loved those, especially as a kid. We used to play a game at a friend's, where you had to sit in it and be spun around really fast and then try to walk without falling over, throwing up or anything like that. Once one of us did throw up and that game was stopped.

"Good morning, sleepyyyy." The lilting, drawling tone made me look to my visitor. It couldn't be, but again, it was. The Joker, grinning down at me with both his scars and his actual lips. I couldn't tear my eyes away from him, they were so wide they almost hurt my face. But my brain wanted to soak all of him in - If I was seeing him, surely I wasn't dead.

"Where's Amber?" I blurted.

"Oooh. Hah, ho. Your little… _friend?" _I nodded fervently. "You don'_t, _ha. You don't re-mem-ber?" He cackled madly, leaning back in the chair. "You should know, ah sweetness, aft-er all. You. Killed. Her."

My eyes widened further, if that was even possible. "No… No she killed _me_… I didn't kill her." I garbled out. I was sure there were more words, but that was possibly the only noises that could be understood

"Believe tha-_t _if you wish. Maybe whatever I gave you. I, uh, I gave to her. Maybe - I gave you both the same _dose _and with, ah-ha, her smaller size." He sniggered, though I doubt it was out of a gentle jab at me. It was true, Amber was smaller than me - both in height and generally. "Her body jus-_t_ couldn't. Cope." I wondered why he was offering me comfort like this. "Or. Or maybe. It was the knife you, uh, stuck in her ches-_t_. What do you think?" He asked and suddenly he was gone from his chair.

He disappeared into the gloom as it was now. I had started to see things in there and could see him pushing another swivel chair over. Once he was in the light again, I started up at him. His eyes held an emotion, but I wasn't sure what it was. It wasn't one I'd ever seen before but it made me uneasy. He turned to swivel chair.

I wasn't sure what to do. Scream? Cry? Vomit?

Amber was tied in the chair, clearly dead, eyes looking far away.

She was dead - I wasn't.

People often say that when they look at something horrible they can't look away, like a car crash. I couldn't do anything _but _look away. However the image was ingrained on the inside of my eyelids, burned into my pupils.

"Don-_t _you remember?"

My brain raced, trying to fight off the haze that covered the events that had happened… When? Last night? How long had I been out? Part of me begged not to go there, but I found it and I remembered.

_My arms flailed, grasping at air. I wasn't sure why, I couldn't kill Amber could I?_

_My fingers closed around nothing. Except it wasn't nothing, was it? My hand was dead from the drugs, and the two injuries further up my arm. _

_Amber let out another scream and I threw my arms up with surprising speed, my thumb as if on auto pilot hit the button to release the blade._

_Her weight landed on my arms, pushing them down. My grip tightened on the apparent nothing. There was a hideous sound as she landed. She stared over my shoulder. Dots blasted away my vision again, dizziness and an almost delirious feeling of nothing joined in my brain. _

_I wanted to giggle. But I was dead. She'd killed me, hadn't she? Warmth spread over my hands and onto my stomach and chest. _

_I could still feel Ambers' weight on top of me crushing my arms down towards me. I couldn't hold her up in this numb state. She melted down on top of me. I could feel blood, warm and sticky all over me, spreading rapidly. _

_Her blood. Not mine. As she slid down the knife cut further down._

_Blackness._

Her blood, not mine. Her flesh being torn. That explained the wreck that was her torso. I had killed Amber. I could hear the Joker's laughter ringing in my ears, unendingly. It sounded like it had been going on forever, from the way he was struggling to breathe.

It probably had been.

I looked to my hands and my arms. There was blood, but it looked like someone had attempted to clean it off. Someone who threw water at it, rubbed the skin a little and thought that would do.

Someone who wanted to laugh in my face when I realized I had murdered my best friend - instead of letting her kill me.

I stared up at the Joker who was still laughing and wheezing. Eventually he stopped, pushing Amber's chair away with surprising speed. It hit a wall. I heard it. I wanted to vomit again. "_So_ - Wha-_t _do you, uh, _think_?" He asked of me sitting once more, scooting his chair closer. "Does it. Does it make you feel all _dir-_ty on, uh, on the inside to know you killed someone? Killed your bes-_t_ friend?"

"You made me kill her."

"Uh. No. No I did no-_t_. You _chose _to kill her." He leaned closer, he licked his lips and there was his acrid breath again, playing with the waves of nausea already rocking my stomach. "You could have, uh. Let her kill you. I actually though-_t_ you were going to. With all your path-e-tic whining. Bu-_t_ you didn't disappoin-_t_. You, uh, you got her good!" He cackled once more, pushing down on my chest with one hand making it hard to breathe and also bringing to my attention once more how badly I needed to pee.

"I could be talking to _her _right now. But, ah-ha, I doubt she'd be as much… Fun."

The way he spoke made my head hurt in a way it never had when I'd watched the film. Was I next then? Was he going to kill me once he'd made me feel terrible enough about killing my best friend?

"Bu-t now, sugar, daddy has some, uh, business to attend to." He leaned in chuckling. "You, uh, you stay. Right. Here." he said poking me in the chest with the last three words. First gently, finally hurting with the last one. He removed his presence from my immediate space.

"Hey! Wait!" I called after him as he began to wander off into the gloom. "Don't I get a bathroom break?"

"Maybe later." Came a reply from the darkness, as I heard him lift up Ambers' chair, and Amber too I hoped, and open the door.

"But I need one now!" I called, hoping that I didn't sound as whiny and desperate as I did.

The door shutting was my only reply.

And so I laid there.

It would be wonderful to say I thought deeply about my conundrum and the fate I now had. It would be natural to think about having just murdered ones best friend but my mind was focused completely on holding my bladder in until my later bathroom break.

Have you ever had to do that?

Hold it and pray? It becomes the most painful thing ever.

I had stopped noticing the constant reminded of Amber's assault on my shoulder very quickly. I had no idea of the time but the changing light through my window gave me some idea of how long I'd been waiting. Too long. I was not one who could really tell the time from the sun. Okay, if it wasn't there it was night time and if it was really high, it was probably about noon. But after that, I was a bit lost and I couldn't really see the sun anyway, just what was coming through the window.

The heat and pain seemed to spread everywhere. Through the direct area to my thighs and into my stomach and back.

It's a difficult feeling to explain. The heat and the pain that pooled and settled. Perhaps, next time you need to go, just hold on for a few minutes, then imagine that for maybe an hour or longer. It starts off with the desire, then the discomfort and it soon advances into pain at keeping it all in.

Eventually I gave in.

He wasn't coming back.

I wasn't getting a bathroom break.

I was going to be left here to die. Probably in my own waste.

It was a horrible thought. Not only the dying, but what I'd have to do. I didn't want to die in agony from my bladder wanting to explode. Closing my eyes I attempted to go, as it were. I barely managed anything. Having been holding on so tight my muscles wouldn't relax and I couldn't actually pee.

I was going to die in agony!

I tried to relax, I tried to free myself. I tried to distract myself from the pain and stopped tensing my muscles. Eventually it worked and I was able to urinate.

It was… Terrible. Humiliating. But at least I was alone.

It soaked me and the smell was even worse than the Jokers' breath. Bladder relieved but soul feeling even more tarnished I managed to fall asleep again.

I dreamt of music. I couldn't see anything but I heard some of my favourite songs. Perhaps it was my brain trying to lull me and soothe me.

--

**Again, if you reviewed thank you! Moar is on its way, I'm probably typing it as you read this. **

**Silential - ILY O BBY. Since you get most of my replies early :)  
BallroomBlitz10 - Amazing song! And if you do anything like Victoria did I feel sorry for your best friend!  
Nothuman - Thank you very much. I'm glad you like my sense of humour, and my story. I'm also glad the fight seemed realistic. Having had a couple of drunk arguements and just you know, moving when I've been drunk... Well, I tried to draw on that, although I'm not sure what it's like compared to being off your face on drugs. :)  
L Moonshade - Thank you. I'm glad you can see it so clearly since I often find this is one of my main problems with stories.  
Siathryn - Thank you, and thank you for checking up on me.**


	4. You're my mirror in the bathroom

However when I woke up I was anything but lulled or soothed.

I woke dry but alone, cold and hungry in the kind of dark that presses on your eyeballs and makes them hurt. My shoulders were stiff and aching, my shoulder wound burning heat into my skin.

I could still smell my earlier accident - the scent lingering in the air from my cot and soiled clothes. It didn't take the edge off my hunger. My stomach growled in the dark. For a second I imagined it was the noise of an animal in my presence but brushed this thought away before it could settle in my brain.

Amber came to me instead. Not a reprieve from the thought of animals wanting to eat mw, nor welcomed. It turned my hunger pains into nausea. She had been so mangled when I saw her. Her insides visible, blood that had oozed from her mouth matted her fair hair to her cheek. Her eyes had glazed and the whites were more of a yellow colour. Her body had slumped in the chair only there because she was tied down.

And I had done this to her.

The sun was just rising when he returned.

I was surprised to say the least. I had assumed that I had been abandoned, to die slowly of starvation, exposure or dehydration with nothing but the image of Amber and the darkness for company.

His make up smeared face had worn and flaked revealing patches of his natural skin colour. It was disturbing. But, then again, everything about him was disturbing. If he could smell my accident - and I didn't know how he couldn't - he didn't let on, but I squirmed in shame anyway.

"Time, ah, for your bathroom break, deares-_t_. I imagine you'll want to clean yourself up." With a flash of movement there was a knife at my throat. "No, uh, ah ha, _funny _business!" His laughter clawed out of his mouth, from his gut, rich and deep. True mirth at his own terrible joke, head thrown back scars distorted with his wide grin.

Once released I followed him quietly, desperate to throw my arms in circles to release the tension in them, but with the Joker more by my side than ahead of me I didn't dare attempt any sudden movements. I might have been innocently moving, but I didn't like my chances of convincing him of this if he decided to go off on one.

"Ten minutes." He advised, opening a door and pushing me through roughly.

The pale early morning sun lit the squalid excuse for a washroom up. Shutting the door firmly on his chilling and terrifying form I sped quickly to the shower. I didn't doubt that I'd get only ten minutes and that was not long at all.

The water ran cold and there was no shampoo, only a small thin bar of soap. Trying not to think of who had used it before me I stripped my clothes off beneath the spray, scrubbing them with soap once they had soaked up enough water to be cleaned.

Better to be clean and wet than dry and stinking.

I dropped my jeans and top on the tiled floor to let them rinse. I was probably going to get a rash from the rubbing and the moisture but I'd just have to deal with that, wouldn't I? I took this change to roll my shoulders, at least, my right shoulder. The wound in my left stopped me due to the pain it caused.

Amber hadn't got me too deep, I noted, looking at the hole in my skin. The knife her really gone in slanted rather than straight down, causing less damage. It was painful but not deadly. It would scar when it healed, but it didn't look like it needed hospital attention.

I paused, glancing to the door before pulling off my underwear, letting it meet my other clothes on the floor.

I had lathered the soap over my body and working on cleaning my hair when I heard the door open.

My hands dropped from my hair to cover my body as best as I could while I bent low to scoop up my underwear.

I had barely caught hold of it when the Joker was upon me. Rooted to the spot the freezing spray hit my back like hundreds of little knives. This was the point; naked, shivering and clutching my underwear against my body that I noticed the switch blade he held in his hand.

The switch blade I'd killed Amber with. The switch blade still covered in her blood and general inner juices. Dried now. But still there. A testament to my treachery against my best friend.

His hands seized my arms in a vice like grip, the flat of his blade pressed flush against my skin.

"Why Vic-_tor_-ia." He said eyes dancing with that unknown emotion. Something I would come to recognise as his version of true pleasure. Sick and twisted. I didn't know how he knew my name, and I didn't really care to find out just now. My body quivered and my jaw ached with the effort it was taking to keep my teeth from chattering.

I didn't want to move around him, in case his warped mind turned it into something else.

"You're shivering, dear, you're no-_t_ scared - are you?" His eyes never left my face. Given my state I should have found that soothing but for some reason it scared me even more.

If his eyes roved over my body, I could possibly expect what he was going to do, but his interest seemed solely to be in my face.

I wanted to answer his question, but a thin trail of soap had just worked its way into my eye. I felt his fingers coil through my hair, due to my lack of answer… But the burning stinging in my eye meant I failed to react or care until my head was wrenched backwards.

A cry bit its way out at the sudden pain in my neck and scalp. On the bright side the soap got washed from my eyes.

"Is it the scars?" He demanded of me pulling me further down by my hair.

"No…" I choked out as quickly as I could. Death usually followed this question and I didn't think lying was the best. In fact it was the blade biting into the flesh of my throat that scared me.

My answer seemed to placate him. He released my hair, grabbing my by my throat and chin. It was another vice grip which made my aching jaw burn further as her forced my lips to pout and my face look at him. The knife was somewhere pointed into my torso. The cold water made me partially numb.

The sudden movement after being bent over made my feet slid and I moved backwards to regain my balance. I ended up hitting a cold wall, and stopped there, the Joker following me through the spray, never once letting go of me.

"They, ah, ah ha, don'_t _bother you? No-_t_. A-_t_. All?"

I shook my head wildly in disagreement.

"Are you sure you don't mean-?" he asked, making me nod my head.

"I'm sure…" My voice came out as little more than a squeak.

"Good. Then I have a _job_ for you dear-es_t_." The blade left my skin, nicking it slightly. Deliberate of course. The Joker didn't seem like the type to make any mistakes with a knife. He looked at his watchless wrist. "Two minutes…" He stated with a hideous grin before throwing my head back, releasing me. It made a dull crack as it hit the wall and just as quickly as he had appeared he was gone and the door was shut firmly once more. When the lights in front of my eyes faded I pushed myself from the wall.

I rinsed the last of the soap off my body, taking care to get it out of my hair not wanting it to get matted with dried in soap. Hands shaking, and I doubted now that it was something as simple as the cold that caused it, I pulled on my soaked but cleaned clothes and turned off the shower.

I tried the door, and it refused to budge until I yanked at it forcefully with my good arm. It swung open quickly then.

He was waiting for me when I came out, though you'd hardly think it from how he reacted. He was playing with one of his clown masks and didn't look up for the longest time. When he did he simply smiled, his make up sparse and truly ruined now.

He pulled on his mask, and grabbed one of my elbows in his vice grip again marching me back to my room.

We hadn't reached it when we were almost mowed down by one of his men, I supposed, due to the mask on his face.

"Oh my God, man." The masked man blurted out. His voice hinted at a much younger man than I had originally assumed. "He's lost it man. He… He just killed Joe. Man… I've gotta get out of here. We've gotta get out of here…"

The Joker looked to me slowly.

"Oh, fuck that man. Leave that bitch. If he kills her that's her fucking problem… Lets go…" The man assumed he was considering his duty to return me. But he didn't see his eyes flash at me from behind his mask. Eyes that told me silently to keep my mouth shut or I'd be joining Amber soon.

I assumed the Joker would just kill him there, but he peeled his mask off first. As silent as my captor I watched the fear blossom in the young man's eyes as the Joker revealed who he was. There was no talk, there was no fancy actions. There was a knife, and my learning what someone's eyes looked like when their bladder lost control in fear.

There was my scream as the Joker released my arm and killed his henchman without care. There was a wall, that I hit when the Joker was done and turned to me. The knife was put away but I didn't feel safe. I felt dizzy, sick… Woozy. I needed to eat and I needed for people to stop being murdered around me.

As he smiled I realized, because of me.

I could've attempted to help the man now dead on the floor. But again, I didn't.

My life was more important to me. I stepped around the dead body and let the Joker take me back to 'my room'. I supposed that was what it was.

That was what the Joker longed for - I realized. The fear in someone's eyes, in their face radiating off them when they got scared. It was what he wanted. So far he could only scare me so far with death, since I wasn't sure this was totally real. Maybe that was why I was still alive, I mused. He could find different ways to scare me, other than with death. He could play with me, like a little new toy and as long as he could find new ways to scare me I was safe.

But if he couldn't scare me. If I wasn't of use or amusement. I'd be dead.

But did I want to stay amusing? So far most of his amusement in me seemed to come from making me feel guilty and scared as other people died because of me. Wouldn't death be a much safer reprieve?

Once there he sat on my cot, legs spread over the width of it, back against the wall. There was a dress on the bed, a rich dark green that reminded me on one I had at home for special occasions. He gestured to it.

"It's for you." He said simply as I eyed it carefully. "To wear. Tonigh-_t_. Bu-_t_. No-_t_. Ye-_t_." Each 't' came out hard and pronounced.

I wondered about the importance of tonight, but didn't question it looking up from the dress to find him wiping his face on what served as my pillow. I opened my mouth to say something but he dropped the pillow at that point and my words died in my throat as our eyes met.

No, it was his pillow and if he cared to use it to wipe his face he could.

Makeup still covered his face, but badly. Hardly covering it at all. I swallowed.

He lifted the pillow up again, revealing tubes of paint and a brush.

"Do you like painting, sugar?" He asked of me.

I swallowed and nodded, truthfully - I did, and again, lying seemed like a bad idea. I wasn't good at painting, like most things, but I still enjoyed it.

"Then you can make up my face for me…" He said with a grin. "Come on, dear-es_t_. I won't bite." I expected him to say 'unless you want me to'… It was so obvious, so expected but it didn't come. Just his eyes staring up at me from darkened sockets, beneath his eyebrows.

"On top of everything that's all ready there?" I questioned unsure, surely he would wash it off first. He nodded. I paused and then clambered onto the cot that groaned in protest at having two bodies on it. It was barely made for one. I pushed his hair back cautiously, never looking from him trying to watch his face and his body at the same time.

Leaning across him to the white paint, I watched as he shifted for comfort, leaning back and closing his eyes. I supposed, as I squeezed white greasepaint onto my fingers (there was one brush and I intended to use that for red) that I should be honoured to do this for him. How many people would have done this, asides from himself? Unless of course he always got other people to do it, playing with their reactions.

As I started smearing it on he let out a quiet noise. I froze, but when nothing more came of it, I carried on, smearing it as carefully as I could about his face. It picked up bits of black and red however, turning pink and grey in certain areas. I pasted on more white over them to cover them, but it still looked like a dirty white.

Next was the black, big circles with incredibly gentle pressure. I didn't want to hurt him. He'd hurt me so much without provocation, I didn't want to see what would happen if I gave him a reason.

I wiped my hand on my pillow, picking up the brush and the red, applying it slowly and carefully. His eyes were on my face now, my eyes on his lips and his scars as I painted them nervously. I didn't want to upset him by doing anything wrong.

"Taking your time?" He asked, causing the brush to slip up one of his scars messily.

"I just want it to look perfect…" I muttered.

The silence that hung behind my statement made me realize my mistake, my tone. I had been annoyed at him, at myself for the slip but it had come out. I was sure of it.

"Do I look like a guy, bothered by perfection?" He growled as my eyes met his. My eyes widened in shock and fear, my mouth trying to form an answer to calm him.

I had no chance to do so before the back of his hand met my face. He hit me with enough force that I was thrown from the bed, my face and my nose erupting in pain. I waited for more, surely there would be more. He'd beat me until I couldn't stand. Maybe until I was dead. No more hits came. Only a pressing silence.

I sat up cautiously, looking to him. His eyes were shut once more, and he looked perfectly calm.

"Continue." He instructed. I crawled slowly back onto the cot, body complaining in protest, my mind refusing to listen, desperate to oblige and avoid further injury.

"The red's gone…" I said quietly, after not seeing it, nor finding it in my quick search over where it could've fallen.

One eye opened lazily. "Sub-sti-tute." He told me then closed his eye again.

What was I supposed to use?

I soon found out. Warm, it ran down my lips and off my chin landing on my jeans. Blood. My nose was bleeding. "My blood?!" I cried, voice strained with fear and disgust. I received no answer. I swallowed but obliged him with what I hoped he wanted. At least I'd done his lips - he wouldn't be licking my blood away. The thought made me feel sick as the metallic taste hit my own tongue, filling my mouth. I filled in his scars with my own blood as quickly as I could.

Leaning over him I reached for the pillow again. The flow of my blood had stopped, but I needed something to wipe it off with using the wetness of my top to help remove the blood.

"You smell… Nice…" He said almost so quietly that I didn't hear him, his tone was... His tone was normal, for him at least. But it was possibly the most chilling ... Compliment I'd ever recieved. But it was unmistakable in the silence of the room. I froze across his lap.

"What?" I questioned in a whisper, removing the pillow from my face, staring at him. My heart thudded as I moved away suddenly. I had to get away. He was going to go crazy again.

His gaze met mine as he opened his eyes, eyes dark and glittering with his sick pleasure again. My mouth went dry, the lack of moisture running down my throat. He grinned at me; feral and wild, distorting his scars again as he leaned forward. I fell off the bed backing away from him.

He cackled madly at my fear, sniffing the air for show, before throwing his head back as he laughed. He hit it on the wall but this only caused more mirth to burst out of him.

"Problem, sweet-_ness_?" He asked once he'd regained some control, the cot still rocking with his jiggling body, as he tried to hold his laughter in. I cringed at the endearment, realizing he'd been using them since I'd woken up, they'd slipped by earlier but now they came to light. Maybe he'd been setting me up for this. My skin crawled. "Don'_t_, ah, don't you like my affections?" He couldn't contain his cackles any longer and began howling again.

He'd found a new way to terrorize me and take me to the edge and he liked it. I didn't think I could cope with his changing moods. Falsely endearing than dangerous the next second. Maybe I'd snap just like him. Maybe he liked that idea. Maybe that amused him too.

I watched him, terrified until his fit of giggles died down once more.

He stood, sweeping past me to a mirror on the far wall. The sun had truly risen now and I could see him scrutinizing the make up I'd put on him.

"Dress. Now." He stated, glancing at me over his shoulder.

I stood picking the dress up, turning my back on him and changing. I was not really one for dresses, I didn't find them comfortable really, and although this dress was nice, it was no exception. I turned to face him waiting for a comment… An insult. An appraisal. I got nothing. There was silence as he stared me down. I lost my nerve too quickly and stared at his feet.

"Daddy's go-_t_ lots to do today _sugar_." He told me his tone terse and as sharp as one of his knives and twice as tight as my nerves, crossing to me quickly. The fake endearment cut again, grating on my nerves. "So, ge-_t _moving…"

And my elbow was in his vice grip once more, being dragged to the door, through a labyrinth of corridors and outside to some steps and a waiting van.


	5. Errands

One hand planted firmly on the base of my back, the other vice gripping my elbow so hard I swear I'd almost lost feeling in my own hand he led me down a few stairs to a waiting van. He pulled open the driver's door on a masked accomplice. "In we go…" He told me, and without pausing he lifted me and half threw me onto the driver's lap.

His strength was alarming. True he was tall, and while I wouldn't say he was built like a house he certainly wasn't a match stick figure but it was astounding and only made him even more disturbing.

I crawled off the driver quickly, over to the other door to see the Joker crawling over the driver too, but with far more grace than I had achieved.

I could see more men in masks in the back of the van.

I could sense them wanting very badly to ask about me. Wanting to say - Hey, boss, who's the kid?

He could sense it too, that's why he looped an arm lazily around my shoulder and gave me a smile that made me want to open the door and roll out of it, even though we had started moving. Or maybe he was just trying to upset me again.

I tried not to let him, staring ahead sitting as still as I could in a vehicle that was driven by someone who seemed determined to wheel spin around each and every corner we hit.

I soon discovered how young most of my companions were. I guessed they couldn't be much older than me. But they started getting excited and the Joker seemed only too happy to let them have their fun, even joining in slightly.

The merriment died down however when we pulled up at a school. It was quiet, but I supposed because it was the middle of the day students might be in lessons. Students maybe my age, or just slightly younger.

The Joker smiled at me again and with no struggle at all from either party I found myself handcuffed by one wrist to the handle above the door on my side. "You can, uh… Stay here… Guard the van…" He laughed out at me, finding himself hilarious. He crawled over the driver as the others loaded out of the back. "You." He said addressing the driver. "You, uh… You watch the girl. Ah ha. Make sure she, ha… stays pu-_t_."

I could tell the driver wanted to argue, even before the Joker and his goons disappeared and my lone companion huffed.

I was getting better at reading people. Maybe it was the Joker wearing off on me. He seemed to be able to read people like an open book with big words. Work his way inside and find out what made you terrified, turning it on you. For some people it would be their abusive parents or partner, their bullying riddled childhood. But for me. It was him. My past had been for the most part bland - and so he only had himself to use against me, and what a kick that must've given him to know he was the only thing that was getting under my skin.

My driver took his mask off. He could've been a student there looking at him. He was young. Maybe sixteen at the youngest.

"What's going on?" I asked quietly after a period of silence

He studied me closely, looked to the school and looked back to me grinning. Obviously he'd decided I wasn't a threat and was going to tell me.

"Me… Me and the guys. We go here. We're not exactly popular. So we band together. Want to teach them a lesson. Teach them all." His eyes glittered worryingly. "And then, your man. The Joker, right. He says he wants someone in there. Wants our help to get her. And he'll help us teach them a lesson. Total trade off."

I nodded slowly. Oh God, this couldn't be good. And I was handcuffed into the van - the Joker was hardly 'my man' if he thought he had to tie me down to stop me escaping.

"Just think about it. All those school massacres - nothing compared to this. Columbine. San Diego. Jonesboro. Lancaster county. All of them. Nothing compared to what we're gonna do. We'll go down in history. They'll be sorry for how they treated us."

I swallowed and nodded. "I'm sure they will…" His words made me sick for two reasons. One, of course the mass murder of young people and two - he was talking about things that I knew about. Things that happened in the real world, where I lived. Things that maybe meant this wasn't the terrifying nightmare I hoped it to be.

He grinned at me, obviously pleased by my answer. There was silence for a while. "Hey, you hungry?" He asked, looking to me. "They'll be a while…"

I paused, for the briefest second, and nodded. I was ravenous.

He grinned and turned the engine on wheel spinning us away.

My brain dully panicked about what would happen if we were gone too long. What would happen because we had gone at all. But my stomach shut it up with arguments along the lines of how hungry I was on how likely it was I was going to get fed.

I was grateful however, when we returned shortly back outside the school. I was full with pizza that I'd eaten… Well, far faster than I wanted to admit. I was even more grateful when I saw the Joker coming out of the building.

It had to say something for his temper to have my nerves soothed by his appearance.

Two men carried a seemingly dead body out behind him. From here I could see the blood, and I saw the Joker push a button on a small box he'd pulled from his pocket. There was silence. And then there was an explosion that rocked the ground. Even the van.

The Joker trotted over cackling, getting in the back this this time, along, of course. My new food giving friend seemed not too bothered by his friends' deaths. I had never learned his name, and even if I had, I had no reason to remember it. I was bad enough with names anyway. He was happy and wild. His driving was even more erratic and as we left I heard sirens approaching.

"What did you do?" I asked twisting to look at my captor. He giggled madly, sliding from his seated position hitting the side of the van as he did so which only made his mirth bubble over.

"I sen-_t_, ah, I sent a _message_…" He managed to choke out, and popped his lips, the noise making me feel sick and wish I hadn't eaten so much pizza. "Maybe I'll, uh... Tell you some time..." He crooned to me, laughing once more until I thought he'd bust a gut. He stopped, abruptly and without warning, making me coddle the door again, wishing to be as far away from him as possible. "Faster…" He instructed the boy, who gladly accelerated.

If we flipped over I'd probably die. I'd rip my arm out of its socket and I'd die. If we ended up falling into some kind of deep water I'd be trapped and I'd drown. My mind raced at the endless possibilities as we sped through Gotham City. The Joker giggled madly to himself and every so often my new friend grinned at me manically as my captor might've done.

We stopped suddenly and the Joker was thrown forward. He narrowly missed me and my friend. He was also lucky not to be launched through the windscreen.

"Very good. Very good… Now tell me." He grabbed my friend by the head, pulling it back a blade at his throat. "You… Uh. You didn'_t_ leave me a-t any poin-_t _did you?"

"What? No of course not!" My friend called out, his terror breaking out as sweat all over his face.

The Joker looked at me and my stomach dropped further. He released my friend throwing him forward.

"My 'Tori wouldn'_t lie _to me…" He said advancing, his tone wheedling and dangerous. The pet name made me cower. My parents used to call me that. People who loved me... Not crazy murderers. "_Would _she?" He asked.

"No…" I muttered mortified, curling into the door, my reply both an answer to his question and a plea.

"So… Look at me…" He grabbed my face when I refused. "So… Tell me. Did you leave at any poin-_t_? Did you… Uh. Ha. Ah ha. _Leave_ me?"

I glanced to my friend, his mask gone once more, his eyes desperate for my lie.

I stared away from him, remaining silent.

"Come on, sugar. Wha-_t_ did I tell you? Lot's to do. Remember?"

I swallowed. My stomach twisted with guilt as I met the Jokers gaze, "I…" He looked from me to the boy who looked terrified. "Yes… Yes we left…" I whispered, looking to the cowering young man, both of us as close to the doors as we could manage.

And I watched it again. The knowledge that he was going to die now blossoming on his face like some grotesque rose.

He tried for the door, my face was released, pain subsiding. The Joker was a blur as he shot across the van like lightning. My friend was dead with a squelch, a gasp and a snap. The blade had broken due to the force the Joker had actually used.

I shook like leaf as he smoothed his hair back and opened to door letting the dead boy fall out of the van and turned on me.

The gap between us was separated as quickly as it was made.

"Oh, dear-_est_. You. Look. Terrified…" He told me, giggling all the while and releasing my cuffs. "Now. I don'_t _wan_t_ you runnin-g off again. Am I understood? Hmm?" I nodded slowly, watching him warily. "Good." He stated, studying my face. I imagined I looked panic-stricken. He leaned in closer. "Good." He cackled, in my face. Without warning, he leaned back, gasping and swung forward, his fist slamming by the side of my head. Missing by inches.

No, not missing.

It hit its mark, because if he meant to land me in my face - he would've.

"Now. Uh. I have a few friends tha_-t _I need to see. I sen-_t_ them a message and I want to make sure it was… _clear_." He made that sick smacking noise with his mouth and grinned at me. "Now. Uhm. Some people seem to not understand me. They think I'm a… A freak. Ah ha, hee, ho. Bu-_t_. That's where you come in." He still had the bloodied knife in his hands and was moving it about as he spoke. "You're going to be… An admirer of mine, tonigh-_t_. Just like I'm yours…" His spare gloved hand stroked my cheek and I considered my chances of running.

They were slim to nothing and slim just got stabbed and pushed out of the van.

"Do a good job. And, uh, ha. You might live to see the dawn. Do a bad job - and, uh. I'll show you what happens to children when they upse-_t_ their parents." There was a pause. "That's how I got these scars you know." He told me quietly, leaning in. I whimpered, sliding down the door.

"Mommy and Daddy were big. Big people. Big achievers. They had a son. Me." He grinned at me. "But he was a disappointment. He couldn't make them happy. He couldn't make them smile. So he never smiled either. Mommy sees how pretty he could be if he just. Smiled. But he couldn't so-" He popped his mouth in thought. I cringed. "She decides she'll make sure he always smiles. Always smiles for her. If he can't be smart. He'll be pretty. He'll smile. So, she makes me smile. And now I'm always smiling for my mommy." He said, grinning at me, eyes and face glowing manically.

One hand was on my throat, pinning me so I couldn't slide further. The other held a blade in my cheek. I could taste the dead boy's blood in my mouth.

"Where did you say we were going tonight?" I squeaked out, terrified. I felt my own cheek cut. My own fault. But I didn't care. He removed the blade, grinning and I was safe for another second. I wasn't going to die this very second. I wouldn't be sliced from mouth to ear both sides and left to die drowning in my own blood, the warm liquid puumping out until my organs failed.

Maybe my brain would die first and I'd not notice my actual death. I'd pass out and miss it.

"Why, we're already here." He told me, sitting back. "We just need to wai-_t_."

We sat in almost silence for hours. I never said a word but the Joker broke the silence, seeming to hate it. He hummed, he sang quietly words that I couldn't catch. He giggled madly, at one point for nearly half an hour strait rolling about on the floor of the van. He would stare at me, sometimes from a distance, sometimes so close I was scared to blink in case my eyelashes brushed him. He would stare away from me. But then he would stare at my face again. Only ever my face.

He'd watch my lips go thin and white, watch my skin pale as he leaned in, sometimes sniffing at me and cackling when I winced, desperate to do something but too terrified to do so.

I was bored, but fear kept my mind occupied. I stared at him back, when he wasn't looking at me. I took in every detail of him that was visible. His hair was unclean and lank, badly dyed a while ago. When freshly done it was probably vivid but now it was fading from his hair and regrowth showed him to be an almost blonde naturally.

His face held my work, slightly marred by what I supposed was sweat and possibly the wiping away of blood along with half a days work at cracking and peeling. He looked old, wrinkled, at least in his forehead. His eyes were incredibly dark and intense, never staying still even when he stared.

His scars were hideously bumpy and marred his skin.

I could see traces of an attractive man there. Behind the make up, the scars and the flashing eyes that could pin me to the spot far better than a physical body. I could see it, but that only scared me more. Perhaps somewhere in the shallower recesses of my mind I assumed this meant he should have had a nice life, been a nice person. My mind conflicted with itself - His limited masked and forgotten aesthetic features didn't make his story true. And it didn't mean he wouldn't kill me without second thought. It also didn't mean we were going to go skipping off into the sunrise, clutching hands while he giggled and blew other people up.

More like... I'd be dragged off into the sunrise, in a vice grip that could break bones; cold, tired, hungry and frightened. Him laughing, me crying as he killed people and could somehow make it my fault until I killed myself or just went crazy.

If it weren't for the make up, the psychotic nature and yes… Probably the scars I could see him in a more attractive light. I could possibly see him the same way if he wasn't totally off the deep end which made most crazies look like they were splashing their hands in a saucer. But the fear took away any attraction possible. He revolted me with his grime and his aura.

He put my teeth on edge and made my eyes hurt. His voice made my head hurt and my brain want to explode.

I wondered what he saw when he looked at me. A toy with reddish-brown hair that had me mocked slightly as a child for being a ginger. Boring bland brown eyes, pale skin tinged pink and a bit of extra weight that I didn't care to loose due to laziness and a love of food? Something to play with, the wrapping not mattering? Maybe his skewed mind saw me skewed too, like a Picasso painting.

I must've fallen asleep. I awoke with a start for one thing, and when I did I found I was no longer alone on the front seat, the Joker sat at the wheel, playing with a knife. I had dreamed of home of my father reading my favourite childhood books to me. The lighting had changed. It was no longer the height of the day, but more the twilight dusk. The sun was still there, setting behind buildings that marked the horizon.

The city made normal city type noises. People talking, doors of cars and apartments slammed.

There was silence again and the Joker put his knife away.

"Time to go…" He told me, opening his door and starting to meander off. I scrabbled after him, desperate not to be left behind and incur his wrath. He skipped on ahead happily across the road, down an alley way, across another road and into a building.

I followed him, running. I was breathless by the time we entered the building and I caught up with him walking silently down a corridor.

As we walked, I got the feeling of the calm before a storm. He seemed to know exactly where he was going. The calm before a storm. A hurricane. We were in the centre of it. Safe for now, until it swept over and we got hit again. I was right. He threw open a set of double doors. And then the wind began to howl, the rain began to fall and I would learn my worth to the Joker.

--

**Reviews Luv. Stop lurking you buggers!  
Thanks as always to the Beta readers who turned this chapter from utter shite to... Well. Slightly less shite. Seriously I hated this chapter up until a short while ago, so I hope you prefer it more than I did.  
Silential - As always O BBY ILY O BBY.  
Not Human - Yeah... I've seen people doped up on like prescription stuff so... God knows what non-prescription stuff might do. It's no problem about replying to you, I'm glad you like me and my fiction and I wish to register that. Your continued support and enjoyment is a great writing incentive. I'm sorry to say I might not be able to update as often as I have been, but I'm gonna do my best to continue to do so. I hope you enjoyed this chapter.**


	6. Worth less or Worthless?

The Joker threw open a set of double doors. "Stay here until I call for you." He told me, his tone even for once.

I wondered if he adopted his lilting, tilting accent to further scare people. Or perhaps he really meant that command, especially after earlier. I was going to muse on this until he called me but the sound of a gun going off snatched me from my thoughts. My ears ringing, I was temporarily deaf.

I found, when my hearing surfaced above the ringing that my eyes were squeezed shut and my back was against the wall. I was still opposite the doors. Opposite the place where the noise came from.

Maybe… Maybe the Joker was dead. Maybe I was free. Maybe. Maybe. But maybes aren't always safe and so I stayed glued to the wall.

It was a damn good thing I had done so.

Soon that lilting, tilting voice that made my bones ache called me in, crooning my name like one might a pet or a small simple child.

I paused, gulping for breath and… the insanity (well, I'd hardly call it courage) to walk into the room.

I found it when my name was repeated, tone less sweet.

I saw him first, sat in a chair, his back tom me. There was one central light on, lighting up the table where he and his… associates sat. One was opposite him, a look of superiority under threat upon his face and written into the lines his body. To his left were two men, one seated, one holding the other down. I assumed that was where the vacant seat to the right was from.

I noticed a gun on the table and a few other men, seated half in the darkness.

"Who's that?" The restrained man snarled as I reached the Joker. His eyes raked over my face with a hatred I'd never before seen in his eyes.

"I'm…" I paused. "A _fan_ of the Joker…" I stated, trying to put as much of a purr into my voice as I could. I doubted it worked. I placed a hand on the Joker's shoulder, reluctantly of course. He made my flesh crawl and gave me the urge to scrub my skin on the inside. But with my wavering voice I needed something to back it up.

"I must introduce you…" The Joker stated, his deep voice far more close to a purr than mine. My grip tightened beneath his gloved hand as he raised it to cover own. "This." He glanced to me. "Is my neice." He stated.

I felt eyes raking over me in the darkness, wondering if this was true. My hair was red - true, but it had dried without a brush all wavy, knotted rats tails. It was frizzy too, I'd bet, curling around slightly. Sometimes it looked nice when done on purpose but it was hardly my crowning glory at this moment. But it looked the same as his, but longer, cleaner. I had pale skin and dark eyes like him, and as much as I disliked dresses this one did a good job of slimming me down. Of course, with him being my uncle, I wouldn't have to look much like him at all. It seemed to wash.

It seemed to work. It seemed to pass. At least no one questioned it.

My, 'uncle' released my hand and I retracted it. "Le-_t_ me, ah, bring you _up_ to speed 'Tori…" He said looking to me. I resisted the urge to back away, barely. His tongue flicked out over crimson lips. My blood had dried in the scars turning an obscene brown-black colour. "A while ago… I, uh, stru-ck a deal with our friends here. Bu-_t_... they didn't do their par-tuh." He shrugged slowly. "So, I, uh ah-ha-ha. I _removed _them." He popped his lips. "Now they've been replaced by the fine gentlemen across from me…" He gestured to them. The restrained man shifted, but was held back firmly by his friend.

"However they don'_t_ want to fix it either… So I sen-_t_ a message. You remember my message, don'_t _you?"

"And what a brilliant message it wasn't…" The new man in power stated. He produced a paper throwing it on the table. I looked to it, yet the Joker never shifted his eyes from the restrained man. The paper headlines told of the school blowing up. I managed to see that there were no victims from the actual explosion. There were the boys who'd set out to cause the destruction but mostly it was noise and mess.

It had caused total chaos - a destroyed building, no bodies until they found everyone in the gym, terrified as much as their families.

Chaos. Exactly what the Joker wanted.

He hadn't helped those boys, just used them. I wasn't sure that this was entirely a good thing. I was just getting onto the next part about a girl found outside… And I was pulled back to the conversation.

"Find his work entertaining do you?" The restrained man snarled at me.

I shrugged as slowly as I could manage, joining the Joker in staring at him. "Like I said. Just a _fan._" My voice didn't quaver as much this time, even though his eyes never left mine.

"How is _your_ daugh-_ter_?" The Joker asked of him.

"Dead." He stated, glaring at me. I didn't like the way he was looking at me. I'd seen that look in Amber's eyes before she'd tried to kill me, but it had been softer there. Mixed with guilt and sadness.

"Either way…" We were interrupted. "It was an epic failure, Joker - I don't see how this is to intimidate me… I don't have a daughter… I don't have any children." He glanced to me. "Or neices."

The Joker made a wet noise that made me want to squirm with discomfort. "True. Bu-_t_, ah. You do have a lovely wife. And a beaut-i-ful miss-tress. I can see myself having _fun_ with them." He cackled madly, and I could see the others shifting nervously in the darkness. He looked to the restrained man. "Your girl was a ha, a good time. Pity I had to end her…"

I wasn't sure what happened next. There was noise, blurs of movement. Confusion. Yelling. Gun shots.

However when the storm ended I found myself in the arm of the previously restrained man. The Joker stood opposite us. The man's arm flexed. Choking me. A gun pushed against my head.

"How about I end_ her_, hmm?" He snarled, as I made a gagging noise. "Blow her brains out all over the pile of crap suit of yours, freak…" He spat.

The Joker shrugged slowly. "Go. For. _It_."

This answer surprised the man, and in my fear I almost got away. I failed and his grip tightened. My legs gave way and he was actually holding me up by my throat. My feet found purchase on the ground and I gasped in air. It tasted sour this close to the man and white spots erupted before my eyes but I could breathe if only for now.

"Oh really?" The man snarled. He was going to kill me. The Joker had pissed off someone from the mob and now I was going to pay in full. "You're not gonna stop me, you've got the chance to after all."

The Joker shook his head slowly.

I felt the man shrug. I screamed, as much as I could without air.

I was going to die.

I was going to die.

I was going to - _click._

_Click. Click. Clickclickclick._

I wasn't dead. The gun was out of bullets. I struggled. Kicked out, flailed. Got free and broke into a run to the Joker. I closed the gap within seconds and then the dizziness hit me. I looked back to the man who had tried to kill me.

I couldn't read his reaction to my escape. To my survival.

"Hold this…" The Joker told me pressing a knife into my hands, carelessly without looking. It didn't cut me, and I was glad for something against the men in the dark. None approached after the Joker left me however.

They were probably watching their man. Just like I was.

"Now. Tha-_t_ wasn't nice…" He said, the man remaining unreadable to me. Too many conflicting emotions. "An eye for an eye hmm?" He cackled. "Maybe you shouldn't have _wasted _all your bullets in the wall, hmm?" He taunted. Words stopped reaching my ears. Sound stopped reaching my ears. All I heard was ringing as I watched the Joker taunt his victim.

There was a flash of movement and the man had a knife in his gut. There was a slight struggle as the Joker dragged his knife upwards - clothes, bone, flesh and sinew getting in the way. The Joker retreated and the man hit the ground at the knees before slamming flat out onto his torso, split from bottom to top.

I watched the life leave him. I heard the Joker say something about… This happening to… People. Or something. If their end of the bargain wasn't maintained. The ringing was only just fading. I felt his vice grip on my arm pulling me away from the man's corpse.

No one seemed to follow and I let him drag me along, barely managing to keep pace, tripping frequently.

I found my voice once we were outside. "Did you know about the bullets?" I asked him as he strode out into the road without a care.

"No. But, uh. It was a nice ah… twist." He giggled madly.

"You…You'd have let him kill me?" I asked, my voice strained as we entered the alley way. I assumed he didn't hear me as he began across the road again. "You'd have let him kill me!" I repeated louder. "Answer me!"

And that was where the fact I didn't die took over me. I grabbed his arm, managing to spin him to face me. I was surprised I had managed to do so actually. And then very afraid.

There was a hand at my throat and I was slammed against our van.

The air was knocked out of me and his hand on my throat stopped my breathing. Lights exploded in front of my vision and then were consumed by the darkness that began to crawl slowly into my vision.

"Yes." He growled at me. "I'd have let him blow your brains out _aaaaaall_ over that room, with deep-_est_ pleasure." He snarled. "Bu-_t_ you see. You… Uh. Ah, ha. You're _mine_. So I'd prefer to kill you myself. I think your death will be so pretty. But, uh, hu hu ha. If someone does it first. Damn shame, _sweet_-ness. Get it in your head tha-_t_ I don't care about-_t_ you, or your little life, unless _I'm _taking it away." I felt the van leave my back, but return to my head very swiftly. His hand left my throat and lights exploded through the darkness. I gasped and gagged for air.

I could see the Joker walking off down the middle of the road. My legs felt like jelly but I managed to force them to move so that I could follow him, grasping at my throat, lungs screaming for air stumbling worse than before.

He maintained his speed and so even when I'd caught up with him my body still burned and ached trying to match him. But at least he was ignoring me now. It felt safer to be ignored. It felt safer to be with him than away from him. He was dangerous to be around but if I had stayed there I'd have been mugged by morning and he'd have found me and punished me by the next night - surely.

Then again, my hunches weren't always right in the first place.

My aching body led me to believe that this was real but in so many situations where I should've died I was alive still…

I gnawed on my lip as we walked briskly through the city. People seemed to avoid us, or at least disappear when we got close. I tried to think of a way to get back into his good graces, desperate not to be thrown against a wall and choked if we stopped again.

The way his hands twitched as he walked, I was certain he was considering it.

I'd figure something out. Provided of course I didn't lose him considering how he kept on darting off in strange directions only to dart back, almost as if he wanted to get rid of me. Or perhaps just stop me from remembering the way back.


	7. Madness, let's go there

How many people had I killed?

The thought came to mind as I hauled my body off the ground again. The Joker danced on ahead of me, oblivious to my struggle.

The dress was long and catching beneath my feet. I was still shaking from nearly being killed twice and being treated like… like a possession. Maybe that was why the Joker killed the man with the gun. Not just to send a message. Not just because he was crazy, but because I belonged to him and if anyone would kill me - it would be him.

The thought was not comforting.

Nor was the thought that this was very subject to change. He hadn't seemed to care when the man was holding a gun to my head.

He definitely belonged in the circle of people killed by the Joker.

But then there was Amber, my good friend and the other two men... boys, in masks. I could've saved them. But I didn't.

I felt worthless, to myself and maybe even to the Joker.

If my little job was over why wasn't I dead?

I felt heavy. Tired and hungry again. But I didn't dare slow, not even when I hit the ground finally scraping a good layer of skin off the palms of my hands.

I had to run to catch up this time and barely managed to before the agony slowed me.

My hands were bleeding and covered in gravel from the street. I wiped them on the dress, trying to remove the stones and annoying little pebbles from the lacerations. It stung, but improved the condition of my hands, slightly.

I fell again, hitting the floor hard my hands not coming up to catch me this time. The Joker glanced back at me, not caring. I wouldn't die here, well, most likely not and if I couldn't keep on me feet - well that was obviously my problem.

I wanted to call after him, beg him to wait or at least slow down.

But down that road lay danger.

If I failed to be useful, if I failed to be fast enough… Well. It was a wonder he hadn't paused to kill me before skipping off. With a grunt I forced myself up and followed after him, swaying and lilting almost as often as he did when he spoke.

We didn't go back to where we'd been before.

In fact we went to what looked to me like a housing project back home. Lots of small, dirty terraced houses designed to house people who had no where else to go, except the streets, provided they could pay something towards it.

These though, these here in the city. Full actual houses probably cost so much more than a weekly rent.

We passed by rows and rows of houses, entering eventually what looked like an old set of shops, left abandoned windows boarded up. He found us a way in around the back, what seemed to be an old staff entrance. I leaned against the wall, and stared away.

I didn't see how he got us in, but his hand was on my elbow, helping me, dragging me into the abandoned store.

I stumbled as he let go, and hit a wall. He shut the door and watched me slide down to the ground then stepped over me. Utter negligence for a broken toy that wasn't useful right now.

I wanted to ask if I'd been good tonight. If I'd pleased him… My father, my uncle, my tormentor… Whatever he was claiming to be or acting as now. But a small voice in my head told me 'You're still alive, aren't you?' and I kept the question to myself.

I slipped into an uneasy slumber.

There were voices - no words, but voices. Of my parents… and other people.

There were noises, stuff being moved, laughter and humming.

There were more voices. More laughter and when I awoke the laughter and the voices were still there.

The interior of the shop was… gutted. It looked like there'd been a fire that had ripped through paper thin walls not up to code. It was an empty shell.

I forced myself up again, hissing at the pain that burned through my palms.

I followed the voices through the cavern to where the light was coming from. With boarded up windows and no electricity it came from what must've been at least a hundred candles.

I arrived to see a man crumple to the floor, the Joker surveying a bloody knife.

I stood, silently, watching him, waiting for him to spot me.

As he did a smile broke out, distorting his permanent grin.

"Oh… 'Tori. Dear-_est_. Why don'_t_ you… ah, join us?" He indicated to another man that I hadn't spotted. It was the man from the night before, the one who'd had the gall to call the Joker an epic failure. I stepped over his dead friend and sat at his seat, staring at the man I was now opposite. "Look. He even brought us break-_fast_. Dig in…" The Joker commanded, seeming far too cheerful to be safe.

I did so, not knowing when I'd be fed again. And with no money or any real knowledge of Gotham it was a wise decision, I thought. Plus, disobeying the Joker would not exactly elongate my life. The man opposite me eyed my neck and I swallowed feeling nervous.

"Your uncle did _that_ to you?" He asked, his question more of a statement, as the Joker dragged away the corpse, whistling to himself as he did. It was surreal to eat under those circumstances. But I was hungry and had no idea where my next meal was coming from. My hand moved to my neck and my skin ached where I pressed gently. Of course. I'd been strangled last night. I must've had bruises. "Still a _fan_?" He hissed as the Joker returned.

"Watch your mouth." I muttered darkly in return, before continuing with my food. He glared at me and I returned it, willing him to look away before I did.

My will won, but only because that terrible laugh ripped from the Joker once more. He broke the gaze and I smiled at my food, finishing it off as quickly as possible.

"Now, now, now. Now. Children. If we can'_t_ ge_t_ along… We'll have to _sep-e-rate_ you both…" The Joker lilted, his voice almost sing song. Almost. There was an incredibly dangerous edge to it that I think my newest 'friend' heard as well.

"That won't be necessary." He muttered standing. "We've reached our agreement…"

I looked to my food, absorbing myself in it. I didn't want his death to ruin it. But there was no death. I glanced up to see him walking away.

I cleared my throat, setting my fork down. "How did he find us?" I questioned looking to the Joker, my tone light. His eyes met mine, that devilish light within, and he was gone from the table, knocking over a few candles as he went.

He understood my question. And part of me was glad.

I heard a crunch and a gurgle and pushed my plate away.

Perhaps he really was rubbing off on me, in the worst possible way. I'd just gotten that man killed on purpose.

The Joker returned, grinning like a Cheshire cat. Bile rose in my throat, but I swallowed it down determined not to vomit up what I had eaten. It had been nice, if a bit heavy and the last thing I was going to get for a while.

"You know. Vic-_tor_-ia. I was righ-_t_ you are much more _fun_."

I almost managed to smile, standing up and watching him as he wandered off into the dark.

He handed me what looked like a petrol can.

He had one of his own and watching him open it and start pouring the liquid, I imitated him.

I was right - it was petrol. By the time we finished and stumbled outside I was giggling from the fumes as he dropped a lit match onto the liquid. It spread rapidly and he'd shut the door just as a car driven by another person in a clown mask pulled up.

I'd added arson to my list.

I giggled as he pushed me into the car with what seemed to be an amazing amount of care.

I stopped as we pulled away.

How many people had I killed?

Well. That brought _my_ total up to four.

--

**Hello ladies and gentlemen.  
I'd like to thank you all again for reviewing and say sorry for not replying last chapter. SRSLY though guys - 31 reviews over 3 pages. ILY O BBY I DO. I was just too excited to get it up. As always your reviews are love and you guys really inspire me to write more. This story would've been over long ago if I'd had my way. But from the look of things it won't be over for a long, long time. That's a good thing though, neh? I'm not sure if it's just me that's noticd - but my last two (this and the last) chapters have been... Incredibly short. I'll try to make it up to you in the next one guys.  
Silential - You know my reply to you, again however, I damn you. But, you are amazing. No more ten year old dads and awesome nifty cool reasons for doing stuff other than - I just damn well felt like it.  
Not Human - I'm glad it's grippy & suspensful. I was hoping it would be.  
RebelleJacobs - I'm glad you do. Ginger is awesome sexy love and for this you get to be superawesome. I plan to keep posting.  
Rednex - X like a bamillion. I'm glad you seem to like... Everything. Continued enjoyment is one thing I've set out in the hopes to create.  
****higher hunter aka jo schmoe**** - I'm very glad you like it. I'm glad you can hear him well, as that's the point of writing like that (and trust me, it's bloody irritating to try to do).  
Joker88 - As always, much love and respect. Your comments make me feel fuzzy.  
TheSodaVampire - Thank you, I shall.  
Bonanza - Oh yes. Laziness. Me and this story know it only too well. -Pats story- One day I'll finish you. I'm glad you felt guilty. In the way it caused you to post a review, not min the feel like crap way. I'm glad you like it, and that you like my Joker, since he is always where I see my fail boat landing.**


	8. Presents and Trappings

The car stopped and I recognised where we were from them steps.

We were… Well. What could I call it? Home? Was this my home here? I hauled myself out of the car and waited.

The Joker trotted up the steps, wiping his hands as he did so.

He breezed past me and I glanced to the car, wondering when he'd move it and the body. Four - three. Maybe I wasn't doing too badly after all.

He was gone again when I followed him in, shutting the last few hours of daylight out behind me.

I didn't care to go find him right now. If he wanted me, he'd find me.

It was… quiet and cold, here. It looked like what appeared to be an abandoned factory. Just one day mid shift they'd shut down maybe? Or perhaps the boxes and other things belonged to the Joker? Sweeping dust off a box I doubted it.

Curiosity didn't call me to look close at anything.

Curiosity questioned my fate. I'd been broken, I was sure of that.

I'd told the Joker, as much as anyone could tell the Joker to do anything, to kill that man earlier. I'd helped him spread the gasoline. And I'd giggled. True it was the fumes, but I'd giggled as he dragged me away into a waiting car.

I was as good as dead, really, wasn't I?

I couldn't be fun for much longer.

I tried to find the room where Amber and I had fought, to her death. I couldn't. This place, it was huge and I didn't know my way around.

Or perhaps I could.

It took me a while but I managed to find my way back to what I suppose I could consider to be my room. My soiled mattress was behind the door, making it hard to open. I managed, however, and pushed the mattress away looking to my cot.

There, lying on the thin base the only thing between him and the springs, was the Joker. He didn't look at me, far too engrossed in the knife he was playing with. I watched him silently for what seemed like ages before my legs called me to walk over to him. I sat next to him on the cot, but still he seemed not to notice me.

Maybe this was where we'd fought. Maybe I'd killed her here. I pulled out the knife he'd given me… Two nights before wasn't it now? Or was it one? Everything blurred. I wasn't sure how I'd held onto it in the haze, but I had. The switch blade was warm, I noted, flicking it open.

It was also the one I'd used to kill Amber. I wasn't sure if it had been used on my other victims. Victims of my cowardice… but it seemed fitting if it had. I put the blade away.

I didn't want to live, but I wasn't suicidal.

I had brought myself to this conclusion, wandering around the abandoned factory. I had killed four people by my own hand or not, their blood was on my soul. I considered asking God for forgiveness, but then again - if God was real, would he be in this world too?

I decided against it.

He had put his knife away and was watching me. I could feel it before I'd even looked to him. He had a heavy intensity that pressed on me. I held the switch blade out to him and he took it eyes not leaving my face.

Yes.

Yes this time I really was going to die.

I stood walking to the mirror, staring at myself. I looked a mess, and it hardly seemed fair to get all this blood on my dress… but it was possibly a nicer attire to die in than my jeans and t shirt.

I heard the springs moan as he got up and closed my eyes.

My hands were shaking, and I gripped the fabric of my dress to stop them. Pain soared through my them, the wounds still fresh.

I was scared. My brain screamed over and over to break into a blind run, get away. The car was probably still out front, I could escape. But my legs wouldn't listen.

My brain forced them to work.

My body jerked but at that same second his arm snaked around me.

It was like trying to break through an iron bar.

I felt myself quivering as his grip tightened and his spare hand brushed the rat tails of my hair back from my neck. A blade grazed my skin lightly and I heard him lick his lips. His body was pressed again mine. Not flush, he was nearly a foot taller than me and had to bend slightly to keep his head near mine.

I could still feel heat radiating off him.

I closed my eyes tighter, willing myself not to cry. That would be too much. I was already a coward, I didn't need to add cry baby to the list.

His breath was hot on my skin. The blade was cold.

It dug gently into my flesh, getting ready to cut. I let out a hiss of pain as it dug deeper and my eyes opened.

He glanced up and for a fraction of a second his eyes met mine.

Do it.

I willed him silently with my eyes.

_Do it now before I break down. Do it, dear God please. Do it now!_

It was better to die than to live in constant fear and with the memory of what I'd done.

He broke his gaze, eyes no longer meeting mine in the mirror, and I saw anger flash in his eyes before I was pitched forwards and it all went black.

I awoke to find that it was daylight again, which meant I'd either been out a very short time, or at least over night.

My head pounded and screamed in protest as I sat up. The mirror was broken on the floor around me. I picked up the largest piece, my hands all ready cut and looked at myself.

The left side of my face was bruised, which was mostly hidden by my hair. Although this was not much of an improvement, a cut had bled, quite heavily actually and matted my hair to my face.

I poked it and hissed sharply at the pain. Well, it wasn't the cleverest move I supposed.

And once more I was alive.

Once more I was alone.

But again, I was alive.

Perhaps I was immortal, but my searing headache made me doubt it.

Why wasn't I dead?

I got up and left the room. I hadn't been tied down again, perhaps I was being trusted now that I was off my rocker.

I found the bathroom, but no Joker and cleaned my dress and myself with the very last of the soap.

Shivering I returned to my room and pulled on my own clothes, leaving the dress to dry.

Why hadn't he killed me? Because I'd wanted it? Because he'd thought up another reason to play with me? Because he was mad and he didn't need a reason?

It didn't matter. He hadn't killed me, true he'd pitched me forwards into a wall so that I bled and passed out. But he didn't kill me.

I left the room again. I wandered about unsure of where to go. I had searched the entire place by the time I returned to my room. It was empty and I was alone. I was hungry. I was alone.

I could leave. I could run away, far, far away. Surely this world didn't end at Gotham's boundaries. I could get away and escape him. Maybe some how find my way back… back where? Back to the real world? Back to where I was? Where was I? Was I just here?

I didn't leave.

I sat on the cot and ignored how uncomfortable it was.

I couldn't. I had no money, no idea of where to go. No friends here. No family. Maybe he wanted me to run away. Maybe he wanted to see if I would, maybe he wanted to play cat and mouse? What then? He'd catch me easily. I doubted my ability to slip into the shadows. And then he'd hurt me. Or he'd end me. Or he'd just stat the game over until I cracked and did it myself.

I sat and I stared at the wall trying not to think of the people who were dead because of me. I tried not to think of how hungry I felt again. I must've started to lose weight by now, not much of course, but it would start coming off slowly. Days were blurring. How long had I been there now? And I'd eaten maybe twice…

Maybe that was why I ached all over, deep down into my bones, inside my head pressing on my eyeballs from the inside out.

I slept again.

My body's protests woke me up. Or perhaps it was the noise of my door opening.

There was a spring jammed in the small of my back. It wasn't sharp, but it explained the ache.

There was a knife at my throat and my eyes met his through the darkness. His glinted with anger for some unknown reason.

He straddled me the cot complaining aloud, my body complaining silently.

The knife still at my throat he pawed me without affection. I daresay without lust. Just a need. A need to subdue me and suppress me further.

I caught his wrist as his gloved hand kneaded a bruise somewhere from my falling I supposed.

I lost the battle of wills as he pushed back against my grasp and pressed his knife deeper.

He didn't cut me though and I released his hand, hissing in pain as he thumbed the bruise, giggling quietly to himself.

It was rushed, over just as quickly as it had started. It was always odd to hear people say they blocked things like this out, but for the most part it's what I did. I just retreated away from what was happening.

It had hurt… A lot. There had been no affection, no gilded attempt at love. Just pain, teeth and a few more bruises and cuts from when he'd stopped taking care where he put the knife. My cries only seemed to please him.

He left, wordlessly, and I curled up into a ball before drifting off into an uneasy sleep.

I dreamed of my father that night. He spoke to me, so clearly - so very close. I could hear everything every word.

But in the morning with the dawn it was gone. No words, just sounds. Comforting and soothing. Desperate and longing.

I crawled off my cot, surveying the damage to my body, from my arrival up to last night.

I felt sick and retched up bile and liquid in the corner.

My stomach complained in protest and my throat screamed with the burning that came from my chest.

He hadn't tied me down to the cot again, my brain told me through the haze of pain as I dragged myself up onto my feet.

My neck had a small cut, from where he'd almost slit my throat. It was probably surrounded by bruises from him as well.

Oh God…

Realizing I was crying I wiped at my cheeks furiously.

I'd read stories in glossy magazines about women married to men like this for years and had always assured myself, I'd never end up stuck with someone like that.

True there was no romance here and we weren't married. But I was stuck. Stuck until he killed me.

Or until I left. I wasn't tied down, there were no horrible shock collars locked onto me.

All I had to do was leave.

I wiped my cheeks again. I could get away. Maybe not back to where I belonged. Not just yet but at least anywhere but here would be safer.

I'd get away. I'd just keep running. I didn't have to hide in the shadows if I didn't stay here. No money, no friends or family... I could slip away easily. He knew my name, but who else did? I'd get away. I'd leave and I'd be safe.

My legs moved themselves as I thought about it. Yes. Yes… The main entrance was this way.

I rounded a corner and hit something solid. Someone solid. I caught a glimpse of the Joker before the stars erupted into my vision and I stumbled backwards. I didn't hit the floor or the wall however.

His hands grabbed hold of me. I didn't realize this instantly but pulled away as soon as I did, gazing up at him.

Bile rose in my throat again but with nothing to bring up with it I didn't vomit. My torso and throat blazed however and I felt repulsed.

"You weren't, uh. Ha. Leaving. Were you, pe-_t_?" He asked as I considered my option of bowling past him and running.

Was he as good at throwing knives as he was playing with them? Perhaps he'd get my leg, stop me running. Or maybe he'd go for a deadly shot. Or maybe I wouldn't even get past him.

"Yes… Yes I was." I told him in a moment of bold stupidity. After all, he wasn't going to kill me was he? He hadn't last time.

And he didn't this time.

He smiled at me instead, eyes glittering with promise. "Won't, uh. Won't you let me feed you firs-_t_?"

"What?" I asked, taking a tentative step back. Maybe I could get past him. If I ran really suddenly, mid-sentence or something. What could I say?

"You won't, uh, get very far, ha, on an empty stomach." He told me and as if on cue my stomach bemoaned its lack of food.

He made sense - after all. I was running on empty and well… One free meal couldn't hurt right? Before I'd even agreed he was steering me along.

I ate what he served me quickly and only stopped to think about poison when my fork had been placed back on the plate at rest. It didn't seem like his style… But I wouldn't put it past him. He'd watched me evenly while I'd eaten and now got up and circled to walk behind me.

I'd rarely seen him eat… If at all. Maybe it _was_ poison.

He stroked my hair idly and I jumped away from him, and out of my seat.

"What're you doing?" I asked, my voice far more demanding that would usually be deemed wise. Maybe he didn't remember last night, maybe he was drunk. Although I don't remember a smell of alcohol - nor does he seem the type to allow himself to be altered by any outside force. Maybe he's just toying with me again. Everything with him was just a maybe.

Maybe last night was just a terrible dream and the cuts and bruises had been there before. Maybe my mind was really cracked and just trying to make things worse for me. Or make things better.

He blinked at me. "Me? _I'm _not doing anything. I jus-_t_ though-_t_ it would be nice to… Reward you, for your work over the pas-_t_ few days…" He shrugged, starting to advance. I was faster though, grabbing my chair keeping it between us. He looked almost hurt. "I had a few more things for you… But you're leaving so I doub-_t_ you'll need them…" He grinned at me giggling.

"What kind of things?" I asked cautiously.

He shrugged. "Oooh. This and tha-_t_. If you_ really_ wan-_t_ to know. You'll have to stay."

Curiosity kept me with him. He kept me with him. I was hardly going to run when he was around.

Or at least in the building. In my room.

He locked me in, just in case I suppose and left me with my 'reward'.

There was a hairbrush and although getting the knots out hurt like hell it felt nice to have hair that wasn't tangled. There was more soap and finally actual shampoo. Some kind of antiseptic liquid for my many varied wounds. It burned like hell. My palms were the worst as they never got release from the burning, and it took me so long to manage to apply it to everything that by the time I was cursing the last cut to hell for stinging so much he was unlocking the door.

He threw a coat and some food at me and I got up cautiously.

"Get a move on." He commanded, "We've got _lots_ to do." He called back to me disappearing from the door way.

I doubted that we had lots to do, unless it was lots of sitting around and waiting like last time.

But I ran after him feeling much better for the warm coat and some extra food. Why the coat was already warm I didn't question. Nor did I question why we were walking when the car was still outside, albeit now off the dirt road.

We wandered down the dirt track to the main road. It was silent.

"We're walking?" I asked glancing to him, in case his reaction required me to flee suddenly from his wrath.

It didn't. I got no reaction except for him just walking on. At least this time I wasn't falling over constantly as we left the industrial sector heading for the city itself.

--  
**Hey guys. I'm too lazy to go through your reviews in this chapter. I just really want to get it up. I hope you've enjoyed it and for those of you looking for a further decent into madness - Next chapter. As soon as I write that too! Thank you again guys, your support (and continued support) means so much to me.**


	9. Bats and Beatings

**Hi guys! I'm alive, and here is my next chapter! I'm sorry it took me so long, and for the time it took, it's very short. But this is just to let you know, I'm alive. My life has been crap. But I'm working on finishing this and I hope you enjoy! If you saw I updated and were happy - Thank you so very much for enjoying this. Thank you also for your continued reviews - they made me feel bad for not writing more often. Which is good if you want more. My next chapter is in for Beta reading and is far longer - So although this is short, there should be another updated soon. I hope you enjoy.**

I walked just behind him, needing to take two steps for one of his. My body was already a constant sea of pain, wounds continuously healing and forming the longer I stayed in his presence. Having to trot along next to him was not exactly conducive to my comfort, a stitch soon developing all the way down my left side.

I thought about complaining, moaning, begging, pleading for a rest - but knowing it would fall on deaf ears I didn't. Instead I thought, and I watched. And finally, as we neared the city, I spoke.

"What's happened to Batman?"

I was surprised the caped crusader hadn't dawned on me earlier in my stay here. True he'd been ever constant in my mind, maybe, but not at the forefront.

The Joker stood stock still and I almost walked into the back of him. I stumbled back and was glad I had done so when he turned starting to advance on me. He had a new look in his eyes, fanatical and dangerous.

"The Ba-_t_ man?" He questioned. "Ba-_t_ man, isn't so… Popular, right now. You see, the people of Gotham. They hate him. He killed their hero Harvey Den-_t._" I knew it was a lie, but I daren't say so as he closed the gap between us grabbing my face. "And so he's gone into hiding… He's not fun at all…" He told me and then with the inhuman strength he had, he lifted me, throwing me forwards. "Walk…" He commanded his tone dark, as I stumbled forwards, tripping, arms and legs circling like a windmill to keep my balance.

He talked more at length about the Batman, skipping about me, giggling as he did so. I couldn't listen. Batman in hiding? It didn't seem right… Batman was the protector of Gotham. True they were shunning him, but… but surely he'd still do his night job anyway? Bruce Wayne couldn't sit in his penthouse, drinking champagne while the people of Gotham suffered, could he?

Perhaps he wasn't sipping champagne. There was no helping those who refused to be helped. Wasn't that what they said in rehabilitation clinics? You can't get help if you don't want to be helped - and if the people of Gotham didn't want help from their former hero and masked vigilante - Then he could do nothing but watch the city erode and hate himself for not being able to do a single thing.

Bruce Wayne had never been a man of supreme interest to me, when in fandom. He was the driving force of Batman, yes - But it was Batman that interested me. But now I felt myself feeling pity towards the man behind the mask. Pity that I believe he deeply deserved, but was unlikely to get.

Perhaps without his mask to wear he was helping with more charitable causes. Perhaps.

We walked and walked, coming to a building. And he was on me.

There was a brief struggle, and a scream clawed its way out of me - he wasn't going to attack me in the streets was he? I found myself tied to a metal fence. One hand cuffed, the other with a small amount of rope that had appeared from no where. A blade, from a similar abyss had appeared against my cheek as one hand gripped my face.

"Shhhhh…" He sounded at me, as if trying to be soothing. "Shh now." He said, a finger from his spare hand pressed against his lips. He pressed it to mine, puckered up due to the force of his gloved fingers. "Now, ha, then. I'd like you, to stay _right_ here. Don't, uh. Ha. Don'_t _move." And with that he was away, skipping across the road madly, happy in his work as he went.

I hit the floor, gazing in past the bars. Inside was a small park - the only kind one would be able to have in such a dense city I supposed. A small patch of grass, a few swings, a round about and a slide. Possibly used by drug addicts - but not tonight.

At home we had proper parks - climbing adventure parks, with monkey bars, lots or roundabouts and see-saws and lots of grass, trees, bushes... everything.

Home.

Home. I wanted to go home. I had to get away. I had to.

Thrashing about and tugging at my binds, I started to yell for help, from anyone, everyone. Please. No cars passed by now - It was probably too late, and the few vans that passed either didn't see me, or ignored me as I yelled after them. A main road. All the windows would be double glazed. My screams wouldn't fall on any ears.

I tugged at the rope binding with my teeth, working on the knot, getting it free. I tugged desperately at the cuff - not a cheap imitation from a sex shop or an even cheaper version banded about at Valentines day covered in red fur like Amber and I had gotten to wear in school for a laugh.

This one had no safety catch, and my thrashing merely caused it to cut at my skin and hurt. But still I struggled, like an animal, desperate to escape and free myself. Maybe I'd gnaw my hand off… Surely it would hurt. Surely I'd die, but I needed to escape.

I couldn't breathe any more, but I still screamed for help, kicking madly as my chest burned with a lack of air. Tears ran down my face, no. No. I could breathe. But too fast. I was breathing too much. I had to. I had to calm. Calm down. I had to breathe. I had to escape. I was so dizzy. I was going to throw up. Hot and cold at the same time. Desperate.

Through the fog of fear a sharp pain hit my scalp and I was dragged to my feet by my hair.

Gasping for breath, more slowly now, the flashing lights and loud sounds that had accompanied my intense dose of fear faded. I gasped on nothing and everything, like a man who'd been gassed with chlorine, drowning in the air.

There was a growl and my head slammed into the metal bars.

Lights exploded, then faded. My head ached, my wrist burned, my scalp felt like it was being ripped off, but it was nothing compared to the ache that settled in my stomach when I saw who was holding me up.

The Joker, a paragon of fury, was holding me up by my hair.

I was released from the railing, thrown into the park. He berated me, and caused my further injury as I curled up against the cold metal of the slide, and that was where - when his anger had been spent on beating me, he took me again. His intention the same as when we had been on my cot.

I was his. I was to behave. It was rushed, as was his beating. We obviously had things to do.

It didn't hurt as much this time, or perhaps my brain was more focused on the pain he'd inflicted earlier, but when he took his heavy frame off mine, my legs only shook slightly as I stood, pulling my clothes back on.

I was alone now truly. No one would help me, not even the Batman.

I caught him quickly, walking and nursing my wounds at the same time. It hurt. Oh God it hurt so badly. Everything hurt, everywhere. My body, my skin, my bones. My hair, my teeth and even parts of my body I thought hadn't received a beating.

I had to keep up. I had to stay put. I had to do what I was told. If he could hurt me this badly, he could kill me. And if he could kill me - He'd make it hurt. He'd make death a gift. He'd make it a release from him, and although I wanted the release so desperately it made my head spin - I didn't want to try to find it.

We walked, and we walked, and we walked until I thought I'd drop. But I didn't. I didn't dare drop. Not even when we carried on walking, my broken body exhausted.

We walked past more flats, through shops, hotels and the main areas of town and only when we reached another housing project area and the sun began to rise did we stop.

He ushered me into an abandoned house.

"Since, uh. Since you seem to be… Tiring. Of my company… We'll let you res-_t_ here." He told me, turning to face me. I squinted at him through the darkness. Why such kindness? "When you've, uh. Ha. Had time to think it over… I'll come back for you."

And he left me. Exhausted, cold, fingers and toes numb, my body aching I collapsed on the stairs opposite the door and fell asleep instantly.

I would soon find that it was not kindness that had caused him to bring me here - but merely a punishment.

**As always, my Beta readers are GOD. I love you guys so much. Thank you for encouraging me and helping me so much.  
The SodaVampire - TY.  
high hunter aka joe schmoe - I will have to be terrible and tell you to just keep reading, although my story is all about not being like the others, not being generic, over used and rubbish. I'm glad you'll always be around, since I plan to always write.  
Silentiel - You know what I think of you. I truly love you, you are my rock and your comments always make me happy. And yes, I'm still alive.  
Scarlet Snidget - I'm glad you like it, and I'm glad you feel that conflict, since it's the one I feel each time I write.  
Not Human - As always - TY. I think I failed to obey you, but I hope that the suspense has made it all the more better for you.  
Aviarianna O' Lorien - Thank you very much. Your comment is so truthful, with the short part and I'm glad you enjoy it.  
Bleeding for you - Thank you very much. I'm glad you're enjoying it, and I think in this chapter I've cut down on the Joker speech, because as easily as I can read it - It's very hard to get it right when writing it. It's not the best. I've read better, but thank you for saying so. Did she say 'our' van? I didn't realize that, and I'm glad you like my selection and depiction so much. It gives me fuzzies.  
Alison The Eccentric - As you requested :)  
Lemon Pudding - Woah. Lotsa reviews. An explination will come at the end, I assure you, and as always - I agree. Trans-dimension things are often hard to do, and I hope I don't let you, and other people down. I can see very much how you wouldn't be able to agree with Amber - Since I'd find it hard to as well... I suppose though, if the story was told from her perspective, one might find it more... likely - perhaps? You shall see what happens to her in time. Sorry about the word slip - My vocabulary and how far I stretch it varies and also depends on how I feel... I notice my own errors as I go back over my chapters - and I also dislike my chapters when I re-read them so... I tend not to. But at some point I may go back over them and fix things if I notice them. I hope I have given you a reason, and I hope you will continue to enoy the story since your reviews have been very useful so far.  
ddr-girl86 - Your poor printer! Sit at the PC and read! Although that might hurt your eyes... Hmm. Thank you very much, and I plan to.  
the-one-and-only-joker - Welcome, I'm glad you like it so far.**


	10. And the end is all I can see

I awoke in a brutal aching agony. My body was on fire, everything was aching and groaning after sleeping - how long had I been out? It was surely the middle of the day now, judging by the light that streamed through the glass on the door. My body was stiff and protested as I stood, leaving the stairs and looking around.

There was the front door, with the stairs directly ahead; to the left of the stairs was a door, and another door on the left wall. A third door was on the right wall. Not enjoying the closed in space I tried the first door on the left, revealing nothing but a shoe cupboard with coats, shoes, rollerblades and children's scooters.

I hoped nothing too bad had befallen the family - and how truly wrong I was. I tried the next door on the left, coming into a kitchen-diner. An odd smell hung in the air - had that always been there? Perhaps it was me. I was very much covered in blood at the moment. The table, with six chairs was set up in front of me, untouched and through the bay doors of the kitchen I could see a conservatory with something in it.

Squinting I approached and before I'd even reached the kitchen counters I realized what it was. Or at least, what it once was. It had once been a family pet - golden furred… Dog I supposed from the size. But now… There was blood and guts and… I hadn't stopped walking - something compelling me forwards.

My gut turned - seeing it far closer than I wanted to. I was on the tiled floor of the kitchen now. I made a move to run - and couldn't. My feet slid from beneath me on something wet and I landed on my front, my head cracking dully.

If the dog had been anything to go by - I shouldn't have gotten closer.

But I did and now as my vision swam I paid the price.

In front of me, gaze locked on mine was a small boy. Except, his gaze wasn't locked on mine - because he had no eyes. I vomited; face down into his pool of half dried, half wet blood before scrabbling away, wiping at my mouth absently.

Why had he done this? Why would anyone do this?

And then it came to me - He was a psycho. He did this for fun, he didn't need a motive. The fact it had this effect on me only made it even better - But it wasn't planned. He was a lunatic who stitched phones connected to bombs inside people's stomachs. This was just his play time.

His eyes - I found - had been plucked from their sockets, leaving a bloody horrific mess. They were dried up now - like raisins. I found my feet and stood, running from the kitchen diner back to the safety of the stairs slamming the door behind me as my heart raced. I vomited again, in the shoe cupboard, bent double - retching until all that came up now was bile and gas.

It took forever for me to venture elsewhere in the house. I wandered up the stairs. They were adorned with pictures of the family. I plucked them off the walls and threw them down - I couldn't look at their happy smiling faces, captured in memories. I feared that they might haunt me more.

I knew now what I'd find. It was scary - but it had to be done. I reached the landing and swayed. Three doors to my left. Three to my right. I took the right.

A master bedroom - a woman. The bed sheets were covered in her skin and her blood - a bony disgusting half skinned mass face down in the pillows. There was blood everywhere. He hadn't killed her first, before mutilating her. He probably hadn't given than kindness to the boy either. She was face down, wrists tied to the headboard and her ankles appeared to have been bound together at some point. Maybe she'd escaped, or maybe he'd untied them to watch her struggle in agony. I daren't look at her face.

I left, shutting the door. I sank to my knees and vomited up nothingness again.

The next room - a closet more than a room - nothing. Sheets, towels and a large boiler that made it hard for anything to have happened. Another shut door.

A study. A mans body - the desk hid his upper, crushing him at the waist.

A young boy's bedroom. Nothing - but there was mess. There was blood smearing the walls. A bathroom. I cleaned myself. I think. I don't remember. I remember coldness. I remember being wet. I remember a girl about my age. Hung. Her insides pulled out. She'd been hung on the shower rail - very close to it. It had bent under her struggling weight, almost touching the ground now. Her eyes were still open.

The girls room. Much like mine at home. But my bed didn't have bits of my body on it.

Her clothes fit me. I wore them. I went down stairs to the last room. A sitting room - the only safe room in the house.

--

The door was hard to open. Someone had forced a sofa behind it. A heavy thick sofa. But open the door he did and there sat a gibbering wreck in the sitting room when he came back. The gibbering wreck, shook and stared into space, talking constantly, quietly. The person didn't even look at the Joker as he strode into the room, filling the door way.

They were locked in a conversation with themselves and didn't want to leave it obviously.

"Yes… Yes I know… No. I know - Of course I know, but _why_ would he do that? Because he's crazy you idiot. It's what he does. But the blood… Everywhere. He painted the walls with it and - the eyes. The boys eyes? Did you see them? Peeled like grapes." The voice was distressed then changed instantly, happy and light as it continued.

"Yummy, yum. I like grapes. Do you like grapes? We all fucking like grapes here. Lets have grapes." Anger. "They come alive at night. They knock on that door. They bang and they call and they scratch. Did you see the woman's skin? He'd taken a potato peeler to it. He'd peeled all her skin off!" Distress again as the person bit at their nails, rocking back and forth terrified.

Her nails.

My nails.

It was me.

Oh yes. Those nightmarish visions he'd left me had set my mind. That wasn't going to be me. I didn't want to be clawing at the door of my sitting room, calling some poor girl's name in the middle of the night - being joined by her dead best friend and everyone else she'd killed.

And they did come alive. I heard them calling, baying for my blood - wanting me to feel their torment. Even the dog started howling.

It was dark now - but that was because the curtains were drawn. I didn't like it dark. But I couldn't stand. He let in light.

Head bobbing and swaying I looked to him, curling up tighter.

My eyes itched. I hadn't slept. My body burned. I hadn't eaten. I hadn't cleaned myself. My eyes watered.

"Take me away from here?" I begged, voice cracking and breaking. "Please?" I asked softly. "Please?" I repeated, not getting an answer. "Please? Please? Please? Please?" Over and over, and he wouldn't answer. I couldn't move myself. And he just watched. Eventually there was a hand around me upper arm like a vice like grip. The pain seared through my brain and my body as he dragged me to my feet and out of the house.

I think he destroyed it.

I didn't care. I didn't care if he destroyed the entire housing estate. I think I told him this as I jabbered on and he led me away. There was a car, I think. For I certainly don't remember walking. The visions were trapped there - they couldn't get me any more - but they were now engrained on my skull, on the back of my eyelids.

We drove. We came home.

I slept. I think. I remember the building. Every inch of it. And then… I remember my cot.

My cot. It was mine. This was mine and it was safe. I'd slept and not had my flesh peeled from my bones. Everything hurt - but it was all far away and dull. Everything hurt, but everything felt so light and euphoric.

And I laughed. And I cried and I laughed and giggled so hard I fell off my cot and went to sleep again even though I wasn't tired.

I awoke shortly afterwards.

He'd killed that family, and their little dog too - and why? I could see no reason really. He was insane and it had been fun to kill them one by one - torture them to death? Surely… He couldn't be… No… No he wasn't that bad.

Oh but he was. He was that bad.

Maybe he'd never planned to take me there. Perhaps it was just convenient. Perhaps. Perhaps.

Thoughts swirled in my mind, muddy and murky. It was like panning for gold, and all I was getting was rocks and muddy water.

I muttered to myself, unable to help it - needing something to fill the silence. But the silence was ended for me soon - The Joker was back and he was carrying something. A box.

He approached me and I stared at him from the floor, falling silent though my lips still moved to words I was no longer vocalizing.

He dropped the box in my lap and I studied it. Brown, tied up with parcel string - a white piece of paper tucked beneath it.

"No screaming…" He told me leaning closer. "No talking to yourself and certainly none of tha-_t_." He grabbed my lips. It burned and ached. "No running away and you ge-_t_ to, uh. Play nice…" He cackled madly, leaning backwards, pulling me forwards by the lips - so incredibly painfully. I nodded slightly, and he released me, watching me like a hungry bird might watch a worm while I examined the box.

The white paper - was in fact card, admitting me (I supposed) to a… Bruce Wayne party. I frowned and then looked up at him. "Whu…" I swallowed. "Why? What has he done to you?"

He cackled madly.

"Why..? Well - he's a _fun _spoiler. A total party pooper." He announced to me, popping his lips. I looked up still, nonplussed. "Do you remember a man called Coleman Reese?"

I paused and then nodded slowly. Yes. Yes I did. Weasel of a man. "You wanted him dead…"

He gave me a funny look, and I clutched the box to my chest. "Yes… Well. That was all se-_t_. Then Bruce Wayne ruined it all with his little car. So… I want to… Fix this annoying hab-_it_."

"But why am I going?"

He made a sick swilling noise, looking away from me, considering. "Arm candy. After all… You're no-_t_ shaping up to be that smar-_t_. Bu-_t_ you are so much _fun_."

And I was alone again. No sexual over tones or under tones. No beatings. Just a box.

I opened it slowly, expecting doom to come with it. But it didn't. There was a dress, a pair of heels and some cosmetics. I stood, holding the dress out. It was dark blue, and had a layer of see through, glittery material. It was nothing I'd have ever chosen to wear before. And worse still - I doubted it would fit me. I was by no means a small girl and the dress looked like it would pinch and cling - if I could even get it on.

It didn't.

I hadn't eaten much, I remembered. And if I had, I'd often thrown it back up. He result was a constant dizzying hunger I no longer really felt and a slimmer, if under nourished body. The dress clung in the right areas, but with no mirror to look in, I felt foolish. Like a five year old girl trying on mummy's clothes and make up.

Bruises and cuts littered my face, and it a way - the dress was good, no real exposed areas of my skin. Modest. Concealing.

Hiding the marks on my face was hard. The foundation was a bit too dark, I could see in the small compact I'd been given. I looked orange. Plus - the only experience I'd had with make up was slapping it on for a night out in pubs and clubs where it didn't matter what you wore. Lights were low and no one cared.

I did my best and finished with my hair and the shoes.

My clothes had come back from the house, both the stolen set and my original set. I folded them, along with the other dress that I had left here and put them in the box, sliding it beneath my cot.

Outside and into a car.

Driving down into the city, plumes of acrid smoke filled the sky line - from an explosion or a fire. As we pulled up, I stopped biting my nails, glancing at my hands - I'd been biting the skin around them, taking the nails down as far as I could. They stung, but it didn't matter.

Nothing mattered.

He, the Joker, leaned across me opening the door for me. "See you lat-_er, _swee-_t_." He said, I looked to him, and he raked his eyes over me. I nodded slightly.

"I suppose you will…" I saw it. I saw it flash in the back of his eyes. I was no longer scared - He'd done his worst and now I didn't care. He couldn't scare me further, nor break me any more than I was. I saw it, briefly, telling me that this would be my last job with him. He didn't say it, and I was still surprised when I stood on the pavement, alive as the car drove off.

He needed me obviously, at least for now.

And for now I was alive. I looked to the setting sun. Would it be the last one I ever saw? Probably.

I realized I was talking to myself and stopped. I'd find some way out of it. I could start running now. But I wouldn't escape. But there was no way that I would let myself die. I might've been crazy - but I wasn't _that_ crazy.

My invite got me into the penthouse party without trouble, although I received a few wary glances. I managed to return a small smile, to each stranger gazing at me, and they all turned away - embarrassed to be caught. Wayne parties had a reputation for being… Interrupted and my job was to keep the host there.

First to find him. I was given a drink. It tasted funny, and fizzed. It was nice though and soothed me, even if it made me feel dizzy and the bubbles went up my nose. There were so many people, all discussing things and I… I felt so incredibly alone.

I saw him, a glance, for a second and then he was gone. I shot through the crowd after him. It was a tiring game of cat and mouse, but eventually I found him, entertaining a small group of ladies. None looked very attractive, their beauty too harsh and cosmetic, the type created under bright lights by skilled people. I was noticed by them first.

They looked at me like a slug, and I certainly felt like one in this crowd. I really was a pauper pretending to be a princess.

And he turned to see me, tall and broad and dark. Just like the kind of stranger every girl wishes to meet. The perfect prince, except so incredibly flawed in many ways.

"Mr. Wayne…" I said putting on my most confident voice, trying not to quiver. "I was wondering if we could talk…" He frowned at me slightly, and I tried to smile. He must've seen something in my eyes, read my fidgeting hands or my worried body posture - because he excused himself and followed me away from the crowd.

"I'm afraid that I don't believe I know you…" He said slowly, regarding me carefully. I must've looked so odd here. Nervous, jittery and hardly old enough. I managed another forced smile.

"You don't… Mr. Wayne. My name is Victoria…" He told me he was pleased to meet my acquaintance and asked what I wished to talk to him about. Silence consumed the air. He sighed eventually.

"If you really have nothing to discuss with me, I should return… I'm being rude…"

I watched him heading away. "I know who you are!" I called after him. He stopped and paused, turning slowly. "Or… At least who you used to be… At night…" He was advancing slowly. "I… I need your help… Mr. Wayne…" I glanced about, checking very quickly for anyone. "Batman…" I whispered. His eyes widened with shock, then narrowed. He didn't ask how I knew. Possibly it would incriminate him too much. I swallowed desperately, wanting to back away.

"I know it must be hard for you. Being unable to help. But I know you're not the bad guy in the scenario. You're a good guy - you do good things, it must be driving you insane being unable to help. I can't even imagine." He'd closed the gap between us. "I… I've been working… With… For the Joker… For a while… But he's going to kill me. I can tell. I need out. I need your help. I need Batman's help. He's coming here tonight for you…" I stared down at my hands. "I want to help bring him down. But I can't if I'm dead… Please…" I looked up at him, body quivering, throat dry.

He studied me and then he was gone, walking away from me swiftly.

He didn't believe me. I was going to die.

I found the bathroom, trying to clean myself up as much as I could. I didn't want to go back out there. But I had to. I had to. And so I sat, alone in a corner. A few kind gracious people tried to talk to me - but I couldn't talk back. My mouth was stuck as I stared into a void - my death the only thing I could see. If I was lucky it would be quick.

There were screams when he arrived, it couldn't have been much later than when Wayne left me. I heard them dully, on the edge of my consciousness. There was activity and movement and suddenly I was being hoisted up by my armpit, by the Joker. I knew the feel of him now, and although it now longer made my skin crawl - I still hated how discomforted it made me.

"Where is he?" A guttural dark voice hissed at me. "You were supposed to keep him here…" Fury again. His lilting tone gone and replaced with sheer hate. I looked up into the dark eyes that were going to bring my death. He seemed to take grace on me, dragging me out of the room full of people and throwing me down a corridor. I hit the floor.

I could see people moving behind him, advancing slowly. He didn't seem to notice, his hatred for what I had done directing all his attention to me for now. Sprawled on the floor, I began to crawl backwards away from him. "You told him?" He asked, as if reading my mind, and he cackled, madly, wildly scaring me. I stopped crawling and he grabbed me, hoisting me up, slamming me against a wall, hand on my throat.

There was a blade in my mouth. I was going to die, and I couldn't breathe. But that didn't matter.

"Stop… Stop, please. Please don't kill me…" I begged quietly. He grinned, eyes glinting and cruel, as if challenging me to give him a reason. I saw the figures coming closer. Police, I supposed. Here to save me, here to stop him. "I know who Batman really is…" I whispered. There was a pause on his face and then his eyes narrowed again, in disbelief.

I shut my eyes - Here was death.

But his pause proved enough.

His force and mass was wrenched away from me. My cheek was cut, lightly, not sliced through and I fell to the floor, gasping for air as I watched him and his playmates try to fend off the police that greatly outnumbered them, and there, on the floor in a penthouse I blacked out, terrified and exhausted.

**There. Much longer. I hope you enjoyed. From now on (as of the last chapter. I'll be replying to reviews via the reply button, to save space and stuff. But I still love you all so very much - thank you for sticking with me.**


	11. Protect me

I awoke in a white room, in white clothes with a bright white light bearing down on me. It made my head ache, and my heart race. I was so hot… My body was slick and wet with sweat, mouth feeling like a desert of sand. I stood swaying on the spot, tripping and falling. The door was opened - I heard that. I felt so dizzy and I couldn't see properly.

I stumbled forwards, falling at the feet of the person who had opened the door. They took a tentative step back. I just wanted to sleep. Everything ached and I felt so weak.

"You're having an adverse reaction to the medication we've given you…" The person said. I vomited at their feet. It seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at the same time. I fell forwards into it and slept again.

--

I dreamt of nothing and everything again. There was a couple arguing loudly. My sleep was disturbed, interrupted by people in white. A clean pristine white, nothing grubby or dirty.

I awoke - clean again, everything smelled clean and chemical and harsh. I had another cot, a toilet behind a screen. And a big thick glass window that people could see me through. I sat on my cot, in the clean chemical white and watched them too.

I was left alone for days. Food came through a special glass box. I got a spoon and a bowl, made of very soft plastic. I couldn't break it and craft it into a weapon and there was always someone close by to watch over me. I was alone in my little box, but never alone. There was always someone outside and there were always the dead bodies that slammed up against the glass calling my name. But they had a hard time with me. It was never dark and so they could never truly be there.

I slept far too often for them to trouble me.

And then there was him.

The person opposite me threw himself at the glass often - until they dragged him off in a straitjacket to a much softer room where he couldn't hurt himself.

Sleeping and eating became my life. Watching and being watched. Sleep was no longer pleasant, it was fitful, constant and yet disturbed by the slightest thing. Light. And I always woke up into blinding white. My body ached from inactivity, but when I was conscious - I was too lethargic to move - and what could I do? Pace my box?

The food tasted funny too. Chemical and drugged. Everything was chemical here - it stung my eyes almost as much as the contant pressing white and the brightness of the lights. I was constantly lucid and so when a man I didn't recognise entered the room I shrank against the wall, unable to do much else. A police man - he wore dark colours something so strange in the constant white of the room that I couldn't help but stare.

Outside my room was someone I recognised. Commissioner Gordon as he was now. I wondered why someone so important was here to see me, and then I remembered. I knew about the Joker. I was hot. I was interesting and needed. But they possibly couldn't take me from here. Outside were doctors in white coats, tall burly interns and other members of the police force.

It was an awful lot of people for just me.

I wasn't exactly rabid.

"Hello," He said slowly, approaching me. I shrank back. "I believe you address yourself as Victoria…" I granted him a nod, scanning him quickly. "I'm with the police…" He said, voice quiet, treating me like a bomb about to go off. "I don't have any weapons on me, can we talk?"

I nodded, scrutinizing him closely. Could the others outside hear me too? Could what I said to him be trusted?

"I also believe you claim to have been working for the Joker…" Another sharp nod. "He often doesn't leave people to question - do you know why you're still alive?"

"Luck. I got out. I wanted help." My voice sounded weird to my ears. He moved slowly, as if sudden movements might set me off.

"I believe you offered help too…" I nodded. "Obviously they will treat you here, and there will be a court case too… But if you cooper-"

"A court case?"

"Yes… Your work with the Joker, well.. It can connect you to a great many things he's done. And then there's the doctor - but with you co-"

"The doctor?" I croaked, looking at him directly for the first time, throat and mouth dry.

"Yes…" He frowned, "Do you not remember?"

"Remember what?" My voice was getting high and panicked now, I could hear it. It made him uncomfortable and the people outside were shifting.

"Doctor Quinzel was assigned to you when you were admitted. From what I've been told, due to your willingness to help - and your apparent lucidity they assumed you were safe." I stared at him and he shook his head, obviously hoping to have jogged my memory with this. "By the time they got to your room - you'd killed her."

I froze. Another person dead. But the name. So odd. So strange. Why did I recognise it? Quinzel. Quinnel. Quin. Harley Quin.

Oh God no.

The ground rushed up to meet me and there was darkness again and I slept.

--

I awoke, briefly, and with a sudden energy threw myself at my glass wall. No.

I had killed her. I had killed someone. Again.

And this time my only hope of escape. I screamed, screamed and battered the glass, willing it to break so I could end this. There was no way out now.

It didn't happen. Two large men in white wrapped me up in a jacket that made me hug myself tightly, and a cord that looped between my legs and made my groin burn in agony after a short while as I writhed in the padded room I was placed in until I'd calmed.

I could be committed here forever, or until I was better and so when the Police came back I told them everything my aching head could remember. It wasn't much. It was the long walk and the front of the building but it seemed to please them.

--

Has anyone ever looked at you like you're crazy? Truly off your rocker?

How about someone who had a piece of paper that said they could look at you like that and you were a certified nut job?

I hadn't before. But when I tried to explain to the man in the white coat what had happened he looked at me like that. My throat burned from the screaming and my body ached in so many places from past injuries and the straitjacket - but I'd told him.

I'd come to this world and killed Harley Quinn. My only saviour. I didn't know much about the character - but she was the Joker's real side kick. If she had been alive, she'd have taken my spot and I'd be safe maybe. But she was dead now. I spent my time rocking and moaning between talking to the good doctor who thought I was insane.

And maybe I was.

I didn't like talking to him. He looked at me funny and he hurt my head.

I think they figured this out and the next time I was seen it was a man again - but a much older man, a much kinder face. He sat opposite me and smiled having read my notes. I was in a different room now - I no longer had a glass wall to be watched through. I think they must've believed me to be safer now. But two orderlies stood in my room whenever I was being visited by the doctor.

"Have you ever heard of Maslow's idea of self-actualization?" He asked, raising an eyebrow at me, still smiling. I shook my head. "Maslow believed it to be a desire to realize one's capabilities. You believe that in killing Doctor Quinzel, whom you believe would've become a helper to the Joker, that you have damned yourself and so your only capability in this world is to take her place - not as the villain… Harley Quinn, but as yourself?" I nodded fervently. "And so, because she and yourself were both competing for the same spot, in this reality - One of you needed to die, so that the other could live…"

"Yes. Yes that's it…" I leaned closer and he merely smiled at me. He didn't look at me like I was crazy.

"So she needed to die so that you could live…"

I nodded happily, he understood me. He truly understood what I meant; he didn't think I was crazy. He knew I hadn't meant to kill her - I couldn't even remember it. But he knew that it had to be done. He didn't think I was crazy.

He did think I was crazy.

I ended up with another doctor, one who tried to convince me that I was from this world, but I knew I wasn't. And I wasn't safe here. The walls talked and moved. They might look white but there were shadows inside them.

I spent far too long there, drugs in my food, drugs given to me in small paper cups with small paper cups of water.

I was being left to rot in my own brain.

But I was safe here. All the dark things were locked outside the white and the doctors and nurses and orderlies were keeping me safe. All the dark things were dying off beneath the medication they gave me. I'd lost all sense of time, but it felt like months. Though that was perhaps because I slept so often.

And so at night, I sat and I stared at the whiteness unable to sleep.

It was never dark here; it grew dim but never dark.

I could hear things through the walls sometimes at least. And I could hear - footsteps they came closer, and closer and they stopped. An orderly stared in at me. I didn't know what day it was, I didn't know how long I'd been here - but I'd stopped eating my hands. And I almost never spoke to myself any more now.

I was taken from my room, and placed in a wheelchair.

I wondered where we were going. I didn't often get to leave my room - but sometimes if I was good I got to go to a communal room for the crazy people and sit around and compare their insanity to mine. I marveled at how sane I was sometimes. I didn't like going there often though. On my second visit the man who'd thrown himself at the glass opposite me in the observation rooms threw himself at me and was thankfully hauled off before he could do much damage. Most of the crazies here regarded me oddly, but that was probably because they were crazy.

They called after me as I was wheeled down the corridor, the crazy people that is. And the dark things. The called to me too, Amber, the family and all the people I'd killed. My doctor locked them in a room, you see. I told him they were bothering me, and he put them away for me so that I could sleep better. He was a nice man, perhaps if I got better, I'd get him something nice. A little plaque saying 'You don't have to be crazy to work here - But it helps!' Or something like that.

Yeah.

It was when the freezing cold air hit me I realized we were outside. In the middle of the night and me in nothing but my thin scrubs.

I shivered, curling into the chair.

"Wh-where are we g-going?" I asked, teeth chattering, looking up at the orderly.

"I gotsta take you to someone who wantsta sees yuh." A thick, deep voice told me and I noticed something about him I hadn't before. I was surprised at myself - after all the white, colour was such a rare treat - and the colouring on his clown mask was so pretty…

My memory caught up with my thoughts and I screamed, and I thrashed, not noticing I'd been tied into the chair. I screamed, and I screamed - until my throat felt raw again, until I could taste blood, until I could no longer make a sound and until I was wheeled into the back of a community mini van.

--

**As always, I'd like to thank me wonderful beta readers, who kiss my stories and make them better. I'd also like to thank everyone who is still reviewing. I will reply to you soon - honest to God. **


	12. The Return

As the van moved on I lost the energy to struggle - my pure fear and adrenaline was gone, the drugs making me lucid once more. I think I fell asleep; there wasn't really a journey once I'd stopped struggling. When I came round to full consciousness, it was cold again and we were at what looked like another abandoned warehouse - I noted as I was taken backwards up the steps, still tied down. that this was not the same one as before.

The man grunted with the effort, and I supposed with three regular meals and no exercise I must've put back on some of the weight I'd dropped. However, he was surely over emphasizing.

I tried to tell him it would be okay to untie me, but all I could manage was a grunt that made my throat blaze with agony as the taste of blood returned.

It wouldn't have been okay though - if he'd released my bonds even for a second I would've ran. I would've ran, not looking back, until I dropped. I'd return to the asylum and stay there. I couldn't quite remember what if felt like to be on the sharp end of the Joker's fury, but I could remember it wasn't a good thing to be feeling.

My stomach knotted up as I was pushed through the corridors into a large room. A rather plush looking armchair sat with its back to me.

"I brought the girl to yuh, boss…" The man behind me said. I narrowed my eyes at the chair. It didn't seem like something the Joker would want. My chair jittered and I was pushed forwards slightly. The quiet gurgling and the thud of a body confirmed to me the man's death. There was silence.

It pressed on my ears, but it no longer hurt as it used to. It was more of a dull ache - but with the silence of Arkham my ears were well adjusted.

In fact, the noise hurt more. There were footsteps and I dared to open my eyes when I realized I'd shut them. And there he was - The Joker, my captor who had just procured me from my safe haven. He seemed to be trying to arrange his face into a genial expression while suppressing a great rage.

His eyes bore into me, and I quickly broke his gaze to stare at my nails. They were no longer bitten and my hands almost looked nice. Biting my nails and the surrounding skin hadn't been allowed. I wonder how they'd look it I had some polish…

"You lef-_t_ 'Tori…" He said softly after what seemed like an eternity, his voice seemingly devoid of any emotion to my ears. It was far scarier than him screaming or yelling at me.

"I got taken…" And his hand was on my face, one of his knees on my thigh. His grip caused a pain I'd long forgotten to explode in my cheeks and into the very bones of my jaw. I was forced to neet his gaze his eyes burning with intense hatred and anger.

"_You belong to me!_" He snarled. "You wanted them to take you. Did you enjoy your stin-_t_ in the mad house, 'Tori?" He pushed my head backwards and got off me, my leg aching from where he'd been. "You lef-_t_ me…" He explained again. "You lef-_t_. Bu-_t_ you are mine, so I brough-_t_ you ba-_ck_. You told them about… There… Didn't you?" He waved his hands idly to signify what 'there' was. I knew where it was - It was the other warehouse I'd told the police about. "It doesn'tematter. You're back now… And I _believe_ there is something tha-_t_ you _want_ to tell me…" He looked at me, almost expectantly. I didn't answer and he tutted, repeating my name over and over as he advanced on me again.

"Now, now. Pe-_t_. Let's not keep se-_crets_, hmm?" And I was dragged out of my chair, unaware he'd even cut the ties. Neither my legs or my feet were ready to stand, collapsing beaneath me as he hoisted me up by my hair, my scalp exploded in pain. "Oh… How swee-_t_. Did they supply you with a spine at Arkham?" He asked, making a sick wet noise when I still didn't answer, crying out with pain as I tried to find a holding on the floor.

My hair released, I hit the ground like a sack of potatoes. Terror made my heart pound against my chest until a boot and the crack of my ribs silenced the pounding. I had clearly been away a long time. Long enough for the injuries to heal so that as my ribs cracked the wave of agony was so fresh and strong I almost vomited up the liquid feed from Arkham then and there.

I settled for retching and a foul taste in my mouth, my breath shallower, heat mingling with the pain.

"Perhaps…" He crooned with a sickening pop from above. "You were lying." A short pause of thought. "But would you lie to me?" I shook my head desperately and far too quickly. "Then tell me. Who is the Batman?" He cackled, voice brimming with mirth, bubbling over with it though it sounded wrong. Rotten and rancid, not right to be coming from such a source.

I couldn't lie. But - I couldn't betray Bruce Wayne. He'd helped me. He'd saved me. Before when I had whispered it, I was playing for my life. Then I hadn't cared. If Bruce Wayne was taken by the Joker and submitted to anything, like me, then it didn't matter. I'd still be alive, for just a bit longer.

But now - now I knew, and as long as I kept it, I wouldn't die.

I couldn't betray Bruce - for him, and for myself.

"At first -" the Joker's voice came back to me, as a hand grabbing the back of my scrubs to haul me up. "I didn'_t_ be-_lieve_ you. But you won_'t_ lie to me. No." He chuckled and I hit a wall with surprising speed, gasping for breath as the wind was knocked out of me. In my panic, his face face loomed before me. Once I'd started breathing properly and could focus on what he was saying - he spoke again. Or perhaps he never stopped.

He studied me like an item that had been sent to the cleaners and come back clean, but somehow wrong. "They tried fixing you." He stated blandly, as if it didn't matter. As if he could break me again. Not that I doubted his ability, especially as he took out a knife and I failed to bite back a scream.

The sharp cold tip ran down my cheek - too light to cut, but enough for me to be able to follow its path over my jaw and down my throat. I closed my eyes, losing the sensation of the knife as it trailed over my top, deadened by the material. "Did you miss me, dear-_est_?" He hissed, incredibly loud, warm and close to my ear.

There was a soft gentle pop as he kissed my throat. "I'll make i-_t_ better…" He promised, still whispering, so almost very quiet - yet still so loud. I let out a sob and then there was a sharp pain I recognized as that of the knife. He'd slashed through my top, tearing the flesh of my stomach with it. He tore the cut upwards, exposing me to the cold air, pushing it back off my shoulders, the wall I was against stopping it there. I glanced down at the cut, and through bleary eyes saw the blood welling up- at least it wasn't deep.

My head lolled backwards as his knife cut the waist band of my trousers, and the flesh below it - deeper this time. I could fight, but I knew it would do no good to bother.

His arms were somewhere under my legs, supporting and pressing me against the wall when it happened. A sharp pain between my legs, not unlike a knife, actually. His breath was hot as his face buried into the crook of my neck, teeth biting and tearing at the flesh there. On occasion, his hands would slip, and the knife he still held would cut me - I'd cry out, he'd growl and tear at the skin on my neck.

As always it was over quickly and unceremoniously, he shrugged me off, letting me slide to the floor - violated, cold and in pain. He left me - and returned soon after, throwing my jeans, my top, and my stolen sweatshirt at me. He must've recovered them before he'd been found. There were no words. They weren't needed.

He was gone again and for the longest time I didn't bother getting dressed. When I did, I was no longer bleeding and my pulse was slow and laboured. My cold fingers couldn't manage with the zipper of my jeans, nor the button and I ended up cursing myself for my stupidity and the inability to do up my own trousers.

Even dressed I was still cold and in pain.

I was trapped again and a familiar constantly-on-the-edge ache was setting in my skull and around my eyeballs.

He'd fixed me now - to his liking, I decided as I sat on the cold floor, staring at the opposite wall.

But he wasn't an expert on people and like when all non-experts fiddle - I wasn't fixed properly.

He returned much later and I opened my mouth, taking a deep breath to tell him who Batman was.


	13. Finale

**Okie dokie guys, here comes your belated winter-festival gift. The final chapter. Yup that's it. This is the last one. Now you all know, savour it. I may be tempted at some point to pick something up, or write other stuff connected or whatever. Maybe...**

**To Kay - Thank you and now you can  
Charlie B. - Thank you also, and well, now you can see.**

I'd like to thank everyone who reviewed, everyone who stuck with me despite how lazy and terrible I am to you guys. I'l like to thank Silential who has been wonderful to work with, a joy and an inspiration and a beta reader who goes above and beyond. ILY, so much - thank you for coping with my many, many typos, my tendancy to miss out words and all the other things that drive me crazy when I read your edits. 

**I'd like to thank everyone who added this story or me to their favourites, to their alerts - I only realized I should've been thanking you guys all along too, although I think most of you have reviewed me, and so been thanked, but thanks a lot for that too.**

**And so, here it is a very belated chapter, and an end. I hope you all enjoy it very much and I'll hopefully be putting up new TDK stories soon, tackling again the wonderful, yet scary world of the Joker and again challanging the most unlikely of ideas.**

Have a great new year.

Thank you, ILY all from the start, or from the finish.

-------------

By the time he had returned the plan was well formed in my aching skull. I'd thrown up once and I doubted that it was the Joker swaying, but rather my vision instead. My head was pounding and every part of my body itched right down to my hair and my teeth. My pulse - slow and deliberate - pounded in my ears and eyes while a thirst I had never felt before clawed at my throat.

I sucked in a deep breath.

"It's the Mayor." I told him, voice steadier than my shaking hands, fighting a sudden wave of exhaustion. He seemed to sway even more, perhaps surprised by the ease of it all. But I was tired, I ached as I never had before and a coldness that bit and whined had settled in my very bones.

He approached, bending low, surveying my face. I failed to keep his gaze as my stomach cried for food. I felt his eyes needling my skin, but it made sense - it all made sense. He was paid well enough; he had a duty to care for his people and as the mayor, he must certainly care. That idea had lodged itself in my brain a while ago - and it stuck fast, repeating itself over and over. After a few moments silence I was hauled to my feet.

With reflection - it is perhaps masochistic, at best - to lie to the Joker. It had certainly been suicidal for people in the past. Nevertheless, that was what I was relying upon.

It would be over soon Ipromised myself; the constant ache, the constant cold. My eyes would no longer itch with fatigue and the feeling of glass under my eyelids would fade, my teeth would stop aching, my body would stop shaking. It would be over. I would rest in peace. And it would _be _peace.

Perhaps though the Joker didn't see the defeat in my eyes, perhaps he only saw glorious submission, which was why I survived long enough to find myself in front of a cracked mirror, in some strange sort of trance.

I didn't remember much - the time passed in a cold, miserable blur through my half lidded eyes, sleep hunger and pain.

I'd clearly been on many drugs at Arkham and the withdrawal was rough but there was no sympathy and no kind of warmth. My fingers and toes had grown numb and I hardly cared that my hair was hanging limp and knotted about my face.

I'd gone back inside myself, where I was safe and distant - though dead bodies of strangers and acquaintances no longer haunted me day and night I was not much better than how I had been when I was hauled from the house from which I'd taken my sweater. It offered a little warmth, and every so often, I'd curl up in it, warming my icicle hands, and pretend no one could see or hurt me.

My nails were bitten, bleeding stubs again, stinging as I balled my hands into fists around the material of my jeans.

I was going to die that very night, I could tell - this was a night of action, and my lie would be discovered, and it would be over. That news calmed me, but my body still shook and trembled, though that may not have been out of anticipation or fear.

The cold made my withdrawal shakes much, much worse.

Tugging my sweater over my head, vaguely aware that my fingertips hurt, I sat down and waited. It was what I did now. I sat and waited. Sat and waited for my lie to be discovered. Although so far, my lie was all my own. But not for long, I didn't doubt.

The door opened and I hauled myself up onto my feet, swaying like a tiny boat, lost in a storm at sea.

And he was there.

Here.

All hands and excitement. Too numb to protest and too cold to really care I watched, detached as he crushed me against the wall, eyes needling my skin once more. I closed my eyes, letting my head flop, reveling in his body warmth and trying to ignore the pressure as he took me - perhaps I was just too numb to feel properly, or perhaps he was getting gentle with me.

And what timing he had - I was already as broken as he'd get me.

Or perhaps he wasn't getting gentle at all. Perhaps now I submitted so willingly (not for enjoyment, or fear, but a simple desire to get it over and done with) it took his heart out of it. Perhaps he had an ache he couldn't ignore and just had to rub, mechanical and as impassionate as it might be.

Or perhaps I'd just stopped caring, truly and utterly.

As I pulled my jeans up and followed him numbly to a waiting car, I decided - it didn't matter.

None of it did.

It would all be over soon.

I dozed in the car, a new favourite pastime a close second to sitting and waiting, unable to sleep properly through the jolting jumping ride. The car was warm but by the time I'd stopped shivering the car had stopped and I was hauled out.

More men in masks were getting out of cars and vans. I half followed, half was dragged up a set of steps and out of the half gloom. The building that the steps belonged to was all lit up and as we rushed past four burly looking doormen the worst was confirmed to me.

We were somewhere fancy and important.

A maze of hallways and then a man in a tuxedo. He approached us and we approached him. He opened his mouth, only to be silenced by a gun blast. I was moving back in the crushing crowd of men in clown masks that held guns. But I was still careful to step over the man's corpse and not on it.

Carried by the momentum of the bodies around me, I moved with them in a pack. A door at the end of our current corridor opened, and in it swarmed our pack of wolves, ready to tear and rip and make whomever we found bleed. Dresses, tuxedos and an air of importance. Chatter and the sounds of dining died completely.

A shriek.

High and ringing.

I swayed and so did the world. I stumbled over what I supposed to be the second casualty of the night, and fell into a vacant seat as the world spun into dots of blackness and colour. A fear and silence that pressed on my eyes and ears.

Nevertheless, there was noise too. Talking, fearful chatter and as the world became more than just dots again; the smash of glass, a scream and above the sudden chaos a deep, guttural voice that uncovered my lie. How did he know? How had he gotten here so fast?

My heart pounded in my ears and my breath came out in short sharp gasps. My chest and my legs hurt - I was racing through the maze of hallways again without realizing it at first. I might've been defeated but my body was not ready for my death and so my feet were carrying me as quickly as my ravaged body would allow - heading for safety.

The pounding in my ears was joined by footfalls. Faster than my own and gaining on me. Up ahead a fire door showed my escape but my pursuer was close enough for me to hear their breathing, not nearly as laboured as mine. A hand snatched at me, catching my sweater but not managing to hold it as I slammed my full body weight into the fire door and fell outside with a yelp. My body, especially my palms and knees, exploded in pain, but seeing my pursuer, fury incarnate behind a white face and a permanent smile, I found my feet and began running again. Despite my mind's unwillingness to live, my body was taking over in defense, terror surging through my veins, especially now I was certain of who was chasing me.

The next time he made grab at me, I was not so lucky, my fall had made sure I could not get away, no matter how I scrabbled and this time, he caught a good fistful of my sweater. The combination of our momentum sent us both crashing into a car. Dazed, I could see flashing lights nearby but not clearly, my head having slammed into the metal. They looked like they were at the front of the building, or perhaps the back. Where were we in relation to the entrance? I couldn't tell, far too disorientated. So much so that when I was dragged from the car, pure adrenaline was not sufficient for me to bolt again. I was jerked away, feet dragging and lolling on the floor, a sickening weight setting in my stomach and squeezing my insides. It was going to be over. I was going to die. I was very, very scared despite how ready I felt.

With surprising speed and strength, I found myself being hauled into a block of flats. The foyer was warm, bright, and empty. My body, unable to escape the inevitably any longer dropped like a sack of potatoes as soon as he released me. I laid there gasping and waiting for death.

Yet it didn't come.

My wrists were swiftly bound instead, with the tie cord from my sweater's hood. There was no attempt at gentleness however, the material biting and tearing at my skin.

"You," he snarled hauling me once more to my feet. "Have _ruined_ everything!"

"I thought you didn't make plans…" I told him, bold in my certainty of repercussions that would bring this to a swift end. In reply, he slammed me against the stairwell, securing my hands above my head to the railings with a belt I hadn't noticed that he'd been wearing. He paused as if considering something then tightened the belt, pulling me up onto the tips of my toes.

"So I've ruined everything have I?" I asked, attempting to needle him, to goad him into action. "Why don't you just get rid of me? You've done so before for so much less."

A small chuckle bubbled past his lips and the dim light exploded in my eyes as he cackled and threw my head back suddenly for me. Hopefully he didn't plan to kill me by bashing my skull into things until I bled to death. The crack of my skull and his mirth echoed until the pain in my head began to die down.

However his mirth didn't die.

"You th-_ink_ you've go_t_ me pinned, don'_t_ you, 'Toria?" He cackled. "But I've go-_t you _pinned." The gentle nick of a knife emphasized his point. "You may have, ha, the balls to lie when you th-_ink_ you're safe, bu-_t_, jus-_t_ like anyone else - when you're life is in danger you'll turn, and you'll tell. Because you know and I know you know." Humming he took his knife to my sweater, shredding the sleeves and the torso until it fell away.

"So yes. I will… Get rid of you…" He grinned "How could you expect less for lying to me?" He asked looking almost hurt, but malevolence glinted in his eyes. A rough slit down my t-shirt exposed my chest and stomach. "Bu-_t_, before then. We'll have some fun. And you will tell me who the Batman is…" A soft pop of his lips as he unbuttoned my jeans, watching them fall to the floor.

"Where to star-_t_?" He questioned one hand thrumming my spine at the base of my back, the other pressing a cold knife to my hipbone. "Here?"

He trailed it up my side, watching the blade with an almost supernatural attentiveness. "Here?" He moved closer, fingers still thrumming, as he brought the blade to my face. "Oh such _choice_." My breath was hitching and coming out in short sharp bursts my head titled as far back as I could get it, trying to avoid the blade biting into my skin. My eyes were squeezed tightly shut as he hummed in though starting to drag the knife back down my body.

I opened my eyes, watching my blood well forth from the scratch he was creating. "You think you've got me pinned do you?" I panted. He let out another _Hmm_ in reply, this one smug, not looking to me. I swallowed and twisted suddenly.

My eyes flew open at the incredible pain, the light seemingly blinding me as I tasted blood in my mouth. Through pinhole vision, I could see the Joker's hand still onthe knife currently stuck in between two of my ribs. Breathing was now an agony unlike anything he'd ever inflicted upon me. "I guess you have…" I whispered and then laughed although the action brought nothing but fresh waves of agony.

His face was a perfect picture of shock mingled with a white-hot fury I'd never seen from him. He yanked the knife sharply from my side and I laughed and cackled as blood began to flow in earnest. It might've been painful - but at least it would be soon over, and I could see the Joker's face as I ruined his plan, even if he claimed not to make them.

My legs gave way, and hanging by my wrists, I laughed and groaned my way into the…

Darkness.

----

My eyes flew open to a blinding white light -

_**NO!**_

I wanted to scream, to struggle and yell and kick… But everything seemed so… Slow and thick. It was like I was suspended in syrup. A machine beeped and everything felt heavy. I lifted a hand but barely, it fell onto my chest which was a mess of wires. My head and eyes rolled as I closed my eyes and tugged as hard as I could on the wires.

Silence and white.

Then the beeping machine went crazy - and I tore at wires and tubes.

No. No. Dear god - NO!

Hands held me down but I could hardly feel them. There was screaming and crying.

NO.

Darkness once more.

---

A hand was stroking my hair, a voice was sobbing, shaking and pleading. My eyelids felt like they were being weighed down but I managed to peel them open. Who was stroking my hair?

My mother.

It was also my mother who was sobbing and muttering. I tried to call to her, but I couldn't even manage a croak. She took a deep shuddering breath, opening her own eyes and looking at me. She stared, eyes growing round.

"'Tori?" She whispered.

I managed to blink and make some kind of click with my tongue in response, my voice failing me again.

"'Tori?" She repeated louder. "Oh god!" She screamed. "Tom! Tom! It-it's 'Tori! TOM!" What were my parents doing in Gotham? No one knew who I was… How could they have found me here? Hearing my mother's screaming, my father barreled through the door. She'd bundled me up into her arms and was sobbing.

I watched my father deflate. His eyes seemed to die, and his shoulders slumped.

"No…" He whispered.

I managed to croak at him, it was like no human word, but the sound made his eyes light up again as he staggered back. "Vick?"

I croaked again. And it was under their combined pressure with them sobbing and calling out thanks to the world that the doctors approached. It took them a while to pry my mother off but once they had they propped me into a sitting position, and stared at me.

I went for the water at my bedside and failed. My mum dropped a glass trying to fill it up for me. As she helped me drink, the drip in my arm was changed. Slowly the feeling of floating went away, and was replaced with dull pain everywhere.

"Can't you put her back on the morphine?" My other asked as I grunted in pain, shifting to find comfort that eluded me.

"We need her lucid I'm afraid…" One of the doctors told my mother and then looked to me. "You're in the Royal St. Neville's, Victoria." I blinked - that was my local hospital. But… It couldn't be. What had happened - that wasn't a dream, it had been so real, so painful and raw. "Do you know why you're here? Do you know what happened?"

But…

But…

Yes. Yes I did.

I told them, everything I could remember, pausing often because my throat hurt from misuse, and I needed to drink. I told them how I'd gotten up for work that morning. How I was heading for town when Amber met me. I told them how we came to a road, and crying I told them how because she was looking at me I assumed she'd check the traffic my side. So I didn't look. I told them how we walked out into the road, arms linked. Then there was a horn blaring, a bus at top speed. It hit me… And then….

The Joker, and what seemed like ages of torment and pain.

"And then now…" I said in a whispery croak.

How could I forget what hadn't happened? It wasn't possible… The horrific images from my dream seemed to be drawn on the inside of my eyelids still. I glanced around the bed about me, full of people who seemed to be sleeping, or in seriously awful condition. But I couldn't spot my friend, who should therefore be alive.

"Where's Amber?" I croaked looking from my mother who squirmed, like a worm on a hook to the doctors, who shifted uneasily for a second.

"Amber…" The first doctor began and cleared his throat.

Another interjected. "When the bus hit you and Amber - you were flung forwards, having been hit head on, Amber however was not as… Lucky perhaps. The bus shattered her skull and she was pronounced dead upon arrival at the hospital."

I reeled. "What?" The grip my mother had on my hand was beginning to hurt.

The doctor who cleared his throat ventured forward. "There, there is more. He way you were hit broke your spine and legs in several places, damaging them severely… Irreparably. But with… With intense physiotherapy…"

"You won't walk again." The other told me, bluntly. "The damage, as my colleague said is irreparable and so severe that while your comfort may be restored, walking is not a realistic or viable goal. You would be a medical miracle if it occurred. Intense physiotherapy may aid mobility and increase your personal comfort but nothing more."

The doctors left soon after - each berating the other about false hope and stark pessimism being toted as realism. The nurses convinced my parents to leave eventually on the promise that they would be instantly informed should I so much as sneeze. I hadn't been put back on morphine, at my own request, although I wasn't sure that this was such a good thing.

Whatever I was on didn't block all the pain and I had enough clarity to think and didn't want to go back to sleep and possibly find myself back in Gotham. Or perhaps just unable to wake up again.

Or did I?

Surely what had happened was only a dream - but it had felt so real and ended as I'd 'died'… I was here now, home. Safe and alive, free from my nightmarish tormentor. Elation was the only reasonable reaction. However, it failed me and that in turn made me feel only worse.

My parents.

My safety.

My life as a cripple.

I felt something like that shouldn't ruin this for me. Something too trifling compared to freedom and safety. But it did. I sat and cried over my broken legs. I had chosen the damnation of useless legs and I couldn't be sure the Joker would have killed me. After all, he could hardly have told me that he was going to spare my life.

Of course that was crazy - it was a dream and I hadn't chosen but still that was how it felt. Torture or a wheelchair and I had made my choice. I cried until I fell asleep from the exhaustion.

I was moved to a private room a few days later, and my parents still spent a huge amount of time at my side, as did the doctors. When I was alone though, I could think of nothing else but how I had possibly ruined my life, and how stupid it was to think that I'd made that choice and how terrible it was to think that it was ruining me.

I still had problems with going to sleep, and I was being weaned off morphine. Which explained, surely, what happened a week after I'd been moved into a private room off the ICU.

Late at night, the moonlight kept me awake - soothing my eyes that hurt from crying when the door crept open.

My heart stopped as I saw who was coming in. Not a doctor, or a nurse, or my parents or even the man I'd found standing over me one morning muttering when I woke up.

But the Joker himself.

Panic screamed in my head. I opened my own mouth to scream, but he was far faster and a pillow was clamped over my face, muffling my screams until I stopped flailing.

The pillow was removed and thrown against a far wall.

"You lef-_t, _dear-_est._" He told me softly. "But I'm here to fix that…" He held up a syringe, humming as he did something I couldn't see. Terrified I screamed until my lungs hurt. He dropped the syringe and held up the tubing for my drip, tapping it gently and coaxing an air bubble along. I watched it morbidly as it crept closer to the crook of my elbow.

He hummed, dropping the line, backing away, watching my as the bubble crept closer.

I moved to tear at it as a nurse ran into the room and straight into the Joker… No, through him. I frowned, as he flickered, then reappeared. What?

Distracted, I noticed the bubble was almost in my veins and tore at my needle; however the nurse was stopping me. "No!" I screamed at her. "No! I'm going to die!"

I sobbed as she pinned me down and waited.

Darkness once more.

---

I awoke, in my private room in the blinding white. Sitting bolt upright I patted myself - I was alive! Another terrible nightmare. Well, that was to be expected. But God did I need to pee. I didn't appear to have a bed pan though, and so I pressed the nurse call button.

She seemed surprised when she came in.

"You're awake…" She told me and I frowned.

"Shouldn't I be..?"

"You've been out since they brought you in…"

There was a silence. "What?"

"I'd best go get a doctor…" She told me. "Wait there, dear…"

I watched her leave, my door still open. I padded myself again and shut my eyes, tears leaking out. A bandage was wrapped around my chest. Oh God no…

The door creaked and I opened my eyes, but it wasn't a doctor, or a nurse - but a man in a painted face with a horrible smile and an angry glare for me.

"You, uh aha, lef-_t_ Victoria. But… I brought. You. Back. And I always will. Why do you keep on leaving me? It upsets me so…"

I hadn't died when his knife had punctured my chest. He must've saved me some how, gotten me to a hospital. Gotten me taken care of. Just so he could keep me. I began to cry as he pinned me to my bed, stroking my hair and making soft shushing noises. "Don't you worry. I'll make sure this doesn't happen again." He told me with a dark chuckle, licking away one of my tears as I thrashed beneath his weight. I kicked at him wildly, my legs working here. "Now, now..." He chided. "Don'_t_ tempt me to play with your I.V again... Your on an emotional rollercoaster, and we couldn't want to make it worse now, would we?"

And as he chuckled darkly, again, I watched the I.V drip analyzing the line constantly, looking for any air bubbles that might just save me.


End file.
